


May Divorce Be With You

by SpaceWaffleHouseTM



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Divorce Lawyer Rey, Drinking, Drunken Meeting, Dry Humping, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Marriage, Mentions of Divorce but no actual divorce happens onscreen, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, No Angst, No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Rose is the Greatest Best Friend to Exist, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planner Ben, Wedding Planning, Wedding Rings, Weddings, the smut has arrived
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 63,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25981912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWaffleHouseTM/pseuds/SpaceWaffleHouseTM
Summary: Ben’s a wedding planner and Rey is a divorce attorney. They meet at a bar one night after a wedding of his goes wrong and she’s just closed a particularly difficult case. He still believes in love but she doesn’t. To prove her wrong he invites her to be his plus one at his next wedding.Or maybe he takes her to several weddings
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Phasma, Jannah/Rose Tico, Kaydel Ko Connix/Temmin "Snap" Wexley, Kylo Ren/Rey, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 979
Kudos: 1325
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	1. The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> After _weeks_ of me teasing it, it's here. Have fun, kids.

Four years of undergrad. Four more of law school. Two years as a divorce lawyer, and most of the time, she doesn’t mind the job, someone has to do it, but good god, on a night like tonight, Rey fucking hates her job. 

When her client’s asshole husband somehow gets full custody of their children and dog at the last second despite having previously agreed that he was perfectly fine with shared custody? Yeah, that hurts. It stings. She’s in this job to try and help people through one of the most painful and tedious things they can endure, to make sure that her clients can get what they need out of a separation. 

She feels like she failed today, and as a result, the only good thing in her life is the whiskey she’s currently throwing back in a shot glass, her throat raw and burning by the time she sets the damned thing down. Raising a black-sleeved arm, she winces at the fact that she’s still wearing her work suit blazer as she summons the bartender to bring her another. This time it’s in a glass, neat. She needs something to nurse now, something she can sip at slowly so she can start to properly numb the ache caused by today’s loss. 

Fuck, she feels so stupid. Logically, Rey knows it can’t be her fault—not entirely. The judge was a misogynistic asshole, she knew that from the get-go, but still, she isn’t sure how the hell he’d let this ruling go the way he had when it came so far out of left field. At least the memory of this would always keep her on her toes. 

Groaning, she accepts her new drink from the bartender, and raises it to her lips, taking extra care not to spill any on the slightly out of budget cream blouse she’d worn into court that day. Maybe now is the time to stop wearing her court suits into the bar she frequents after particularly hard cases. Just a thought she can store aside for later, she thinks. 

Whiskey is kind of gross if she’s being honest. It tastes like paint thinner and rubbing alcohol made sweet, sweet love and produced the most egregious offspring, but it does a beautiful job of numbing her bruised ego. “Fuck,” she mutters, fighting back the urge to pinch her nose on the next sip. She’s pissed, she’s so fucking pissed, and maybe she should find something else to do to take out her anger on these fuckers, but right now, she’s fine with drinking her sorrows. 

That’s definitely a healthy habit, isn’t it?

The door to the bar opens with the ding of the little bell placed overhead, and she can hear the bartender shout a welcome to whoever just walked in, but unlike ordinary nights, she doesn’t care to look at them. She’s a bit lost in her little world, still a bit rattled by how stupid her loss is, and so she doesn’t notice the footsteps that approach the bar, she only faintly registers the sweeping of the wind they make as they walk past her, and it takes a few too many seconds for her to realize the stranger has settled himself into the seat beside her and is now ordering a drink. 

Before she even looks at him, she knows two things about the stranger—he has a deep voice and his preferred poison is rum. Maybe that’s what she ought to drink next. It’s a sweeter drink than the one she’s nursing, probably goes down more smoothly, but right now she just wants to hurt a little. 

Tossing back another sip, she turns to look at the man who’s sat down beside her, watching as he throws back a shot of Bacardi like it’s nothing. He doesn’t flinch or reach for any sort of chaser, he just takes his shot and sets it down, holding up a finger for another with a tired look in his eyes. 

That tired look is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to observing this man. He’s tall, very tall, and built like a fucking tree, except instead of branches, she thinks he’s probably made of muscles, which are just as good for climbing. _Maybe it’s a bit early to be having that thought, though._ His hair brushes his shoulders, its raven color blending in with the jacket of what seems to be a tux, given that he’s even put on a bowtie, and the face it frames…

Even in the low lighting, there’s no hiding the hints of gold shining against the backdrop of his deep brown irises. It may be the alcohol talking, but she thinks they might be the prettiest eyes she’s ever seen and she could stare into them for hours. 

Either that or the aquiline nose or—god—the full, pink lips beneath them. He has good lips, they’re so rosy they’re almost red, and the look of them makes her think he might make an _excellent_ one-night stand; the perfect tool for her to get all of her anger out and move on to tomorrow’s case a new woman. 

Any plans she ever makes, though, always go out the window, and as he takes his second shot, he glances at her, their eyes meeting as she realizes she’s been staring at him a second too long. Swallowing nervously, Rey brings her glass to her lips and takes a long, slow sip that buys her a couple more seconds to come up with an explanation. 

“Sorry,” she tells him, setting it down, her voice slightly scratchy. “Rough day, I was staring off into space.”

Luckily for her, the corners of his mouth twitch up. “I hardly noticed.” He reaches for another shot, twirling it around in his hand as the hint of a smile fades. “I’m having a rough day, too.”

Ah, a kindred spirit. So they’ve both come to this bar to sulk, then. “What happened to you? You’re dressed awfully nice for someone who’s having a bad day.”

He looks down at his suit, grimacing slightly. “I need another drink,” he says before he leans over the bar, ordering a cocktail from the bartender, then he sits back in his seat. “I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

“Mmm, sounds like a fair trade.” She takes one more sip of her drink, then holds out her hand. “I’m Rey. Rey Kanata.”

“Ben Solo,” he replies, then his hand—which is so large she thinks it may be twice the size of hers—envelops her own, and he sighs, running it through the waves of his hair. “I’m a wedding planner, I help people set the scene for their big day, right?”

 _Irony._ Sweet, sweet irony. “Right.”

“Well, usually it all goes pretty smoothly or worst comes to worst, we have to move inside because of bad weather or something. I once had to cancel entirely because of a hurricane, but that’s beside the point.” A slight hiss fills the air as he inhales through his teeth, his body tensing, but he doesn’t stop. “Today the bride was abandoned at the aisle and everything I’ve been working on for the past six months fell apart. Just like that.” He snaps his fingers. “It all shattered.”

Sympathy wells within her as the bartender places Ben’s new drink in front of him and he takes a sip. That is shit luck, but at least his clients don’t have to worry about becoming _her_ clients. “I’m so sorry.”

“Mmm, and now the mother of the bride is demanding a refund for my services on top of me having to figure out what to do with all of the decorations and the reception.” Shaking his head, he sets the drink down. “It’s always pleasant when someone yells at you for something out of your control.”

“I hear that.” She takes a sip of her own drink, then she laughs dryly. “Love really must be dead if they aren’t even making it down the aisle anymore.”

“They?”

“People. And think about it, half of all marriages end in divorce. If your clients had gone through with it, I’d bet you every penny in my bank account that they’d be my clients within six months.”

One of his eyebrows makes its way toward his hairline. “Your clients?”

“Here’s my damage, Ben; I’m a divorce lawyer.”

“...Oh.”

Realization dawns on his face, causing her to fight back a laugh as his gaze sweeps over her body, taking in the suit that’s well made but not designed for formalwear. She’s business casual through and through. 

When he finishes his examination, he smiles again, this time for real, and she notices the little dimples on his cheeks as he reaches for his glass again, laughing softly. This time, though, the laughter is the sort that comes from the consumption of a touch too many drinks. It’s a cute giggle he gives her, but they’re probably going to have to slow down soon. “Oh, we make quite a pair.”

A wedding planner and a divorce lawyer. They really do make quite a pair. 

This time, she’s the one who’s smiling. “Yeah, we do.”

“So what happened to you today?”

“Oh, I lost a case. The client lost shared custody of her children and dog to a piece of shit husband,” she tells him, swirling her drink around for a couple of seconds. “And the thing is, I heard their story. I hear all of their stories, but these people, they claim to have been so in love when all of this started but looking at them now?” Resting an elbow on the bar, she places her head in her palm, turning toward him. “It felt like their hatred could cut a knife through your skull. That’s how a lot of them feel if I’m being honest.”

His features fall, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, and his hand comes to rest on the bar, almost close enough to touch hers. It’s as if he thought about taking her hand, but then decided against it. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it, I just hate losing and…” She takes in a deep breath. “I love my job, but it’s draining. Doesn’t do anything good for my hope in humanity.”

“I mean, that’s fair, but most of the time—barring today—my job is…” There are those dimples again. They’re kind of cute, but she doesn’t let herself think too hard on that. She can’t. If anything happens between them at all, it can only ever be a one night stand, she can’t fall in love with anyone. Love ends one way. She’s seen it. “It’s wonderful. You see the best in people, you’re part of one of the best days of their lives. It’s hard and a bit tiring sometimes, but I think in the end it’s worth it.”

She looks at him like he’s just told her two plus two equals five. “Is it really when most of them end up in my office?” A sorrowful smile parts her lips, and she takes another sip, finishing the last of her whiskey. The empty glass sits there, taunting her for a couple of seconds—had she truly finished it that fast—but it remains ignored. “I don’t think most people fall in love, I think they become infatuated.”

Eyelashes fluttering, Ben holds up a hand, summoning over the bartender. “Could I get two shots for my friend and I?” His head turns in her direction. “On my tab.”

A hand rests on his arm, completely of its own accord. “Are you sure?” 

“I think I can prove you wrong,” he says, then the bartender presents them with the shots he’d ordered and he picks up his shot glass. “Your claim is that love is dead.”

“It is, that’s why we’re both here.”

He gets this look in his eye at that. It’s almost as if he’s delighted by what she’s said and been hoping she’d say it. This is what he wants, the cards are in his hand, but what he’ll do with them is still a mystery. “Pick up your glass.”

Instead, she folds her arms over her chest. “I’m not drinking until you tell me why I’m drinking, _friend_.”

Ben winces. “Was that presumptuous of me?”

“No, no, I actually like you, but I don’t know what your endgame is.” A brief moment of quiet passes between them, the ambiance of the bar filling her ears. No one else’s voices are intelligible. Rey can tell people are talking but she can’t be sure what it is they’re saying. It almost feels like they’re in a little bubble, a pocket universe in which they’re conspiring some great and genius plan. Or maybe that’s the alcohol. “Tell me, Solo, what is your plan?”

Setting down his glass, Ben shifts toward her. Like a magnet, her body is drawn toward his, but they don’t touch, almost as if the opposing poles have suddenly made a turn to face each other. “You claim love isn’t real, that it’s an illusion and there isn’t hope. I think I can prove you wrong.”

“How?”

A smirk forms on his lips, one almost as endearing as his smile itself. “As a wedding planner, I attend a shit ton of weddings.” He shrugs. “Accompany me to a few and maybe I can prove to you that love isn’t dead.”

He wants to _what_? They’ve known each other for mere minutes, bonded over shared misery, and yes, there’s been this instant chemistry between them that assures her they’ll be getting along swimmingly, but to take her to weddings? Presumably as his date? The idea is mad. “Are you sure about that?”

“Give me your phone, I’ll put in my number,” he replies, his voice dead serious, piercing through the haze that’s started to settle in her brain. 

And yet she does it. Rey reaches into her suit jacket pocket and pulls out the phone, holding her thumb down over the menu button before it unlocks with a little click. She then hands it to him, watching curiously as he opens the contacts app, and adds his phone number. Once he’s done, he hands it back and stuffs his hand in his pocket. “What are you doing?”

“I need you to give me yours.”

“Oh,” she replies, then he unlocks his phone, the bright white of the screen lighting up his face for a moment before he hands it over. “So how many weddings do you typically attend in a week?”

“I only do a few a month.”

She straightens in her seat, hands coming up to tighten an imaginary tie as she mocks him. “Oh only a few a month.”

Another dimple causing smile, then they fall quiet as she types her phone number into his phone. A part of her wonders if she’ll regret this. Sure, they’ve gotten along just fine since the moment they met, but she doesn’t really know him. Not yet. They are still strangers and to ignore that would be foolish, but something about him is inherently trustworthy in a way she can’t quite place. 

Maybe that’s why she hands the phone back to him with a wide grin, why she finds herself almost excited by the prospect of attending a stranger’s wedding—or rather, multiple strangers. He did say a few weddings when he proposed this idea. 

Ben pockets his phone, snapping her out of her reverie as he once again picks up his shot glass. “Rey, pick up your fucking drink.”

With a roll of her eyes, she does. “Are you satisfied?” she asks, alarmed to find her words are slurred somewhat. Oh, they’re definitely both going to have to take an Uber home. 

Ignoring her question, he taps his glass against hers, holding it there as he captures her gaze. “Come with me as my plus one to five weddings, just five, and I promise you, I will prove that love is not dead.”

“Just five?”

“Five, and if you still believe your truth by the end of it, then sure, maybe love is dead. At least to you.”

“You’re sure about this? You hardly know me and you want to take me to a bunch of weddings?”

“How do you think people get to know each other, Rey? It all starts with a first meeting,” he replies, his hand pressing gently into hers as he speaks with an increasingly slurred voice. “No one ever just meets and instantly knows each other.”

He has a point, she thinks. They still have to get to know each other, and this bar doesn’t close for a while yet. Besides, he seems like fun. Whatever they end up doing, she has a feeling she’ll have the time of her life—after all, weddings come with a lot of free food and who is she if not a sucker for free food? Head tilting toward him, she sighs. “Okay, I’m on board.” A pause, then she holds up a finger. “But just so we’re clear, I’m not your date. I’m just your guest.”

“I know. Love is dead, you don’t do romance.” 

Chuckling softly, she taps her glass against his again, and together, they tap the bottom of their glasses on the table, and throw back the alcohol. The rum burns going down her throat, but for once the ache doesn’t make her feel regretful and useless. This time it comes on the heels of a feeling of excitement and anticipation. 

Ben has just promised her a brief reprieve from her daily bump and grind, a change in her same old routine. Not that Rey doesn’t like routine, but it’ll be nice to have something to do other than toil over cases day in and day out, and while she’s convinced that he’s a bit naive about love, maybe attending a party or two will brighten her mood a little. 

Or it will until she inevitably sees all these couples in her office within the next five years. 

They set their glasses down, both letting out little groans. “Oh, I think that was a bit too much liquor,” she mutters. 

A similar look of displeasure is present on his features, although, she thinks the sentiment looks more attractive on him. Of course, she finds him attractive in general, but the point stands. “I agree, we should probably leave before we get alcohol poisoning.”

“Alcohol poisoning is part of the fun.”

Snorting, he opens his phone again. “I can’t have you dying of alcohol poisoning before I get the chance to prove you wrong.”

“We’ve known each other for five minutes!”

“The first thing you should know about me, Rey Kanata, is that I have an asshole streak going back all thirty years of my life.” He leans in close enough that his breath tickles her face, warmth shooting all over her body, but especially to one place in particular. She genuinely can’t tell if it’s because of him or the rum. “So I don’t care if I’ve known you for five minutes or five years. I _will_ change your mind.”

Swallowing, she leans over to see his screen, catching sight of the black logo of the Uber app on his phone. “Getting an Uber?”

“Yeah, we could carpool if you want,” he slurs, waiting for her nod before he selects a ride. “And now we wait.”

“Now we wait.”

“I’m going to prove you wrong, you know.”

“In your dreams.”

There goes her hope that he’ll just forget all about his ridiculous idea, and along with it, the realization that he cannot just be a one night stand for her. She’s made plans with this man, befriended him. If she comes onto him now, she could wind up on a path that leads her straight to the heartbreak so many of her clients face every day. 

This night didn’t turn out at all as she’d expected. She’d thought she’d go to this bar, drink her sorrows, and at best wake up with a hangover and a grumpy disposition. At worst, she would’ve woken up in a stranger’s apartment with the same issue except with the added horror of having to sneak out in yesterday’s clothes. 

Now she’s still going to wake up with a hangover, she’s still going to regret having drunk as much as she has, but something tells her—this feeling creeping slowly up her spine—that she isn’t going to feel miserable at all. Something about this particular stranger has changed the routine, changed the path from predictable to utterly wild, and she hates weddings, hates romance, and of course, thinks love is dead, yet somehow she finds she’s willing—for the first time in her life—to possibly be proven wrong.


	2. Lavender

She wakes the next morning with a hangover the size of Texas and a surprising lack of regrets. Perhaps that has everything to do with the fact that she’d been responsible and simply had Ben make sure she made it to bed before he left that night, but still, she appreciates it.

They’d gotten drunker than a night in Las Vegas together and somehow, she’s come out of it okay on the other side. Yeah, she’s still in last night’s clothes, but given how safe she feels right now, she thinks it was worth it.

Especially given that Ben seems to have tucked her in and left a waste bin by her bedside before he left. He truly did think of everything. At least one of them had a smart drunk brain. She had a feeling that would come in handy if they were going to multiple weddings together.

God, multiple weddings. What the fresh flying hell had she gotten herself into? When a person goes out to a bar and drinks too much, they’re supposed to bring someone home or go home with someone and sneak out in the morning before they wake up. They’re not supposed to… agree to go to multiple fucking weddings with them.

She’s done this very, very wrong, but if she’s gotten a new friend out of Ben Solo, she won’t be complaining. The man had made her laugh more in the past twelve hours than she has in the past two months. That’s absolutely a good sign, she thinks.

A pinging sound fills the air, and it takes her a second to register that the noise is coming from her phone. It would seem that last night, she was also drunk enough to leave her fucking ringer on. _Genius move._

Fumbling around for a couple of seconds, Rey manages to grab hold of the bastard thing before it can ping again, and opens the screen to find that she has a text message waiting for her. Well, she has two, both of which are from Ben.

Ben  
  
Hey.  
  
Is your hangover as bad as mine?  
  


An amused snort leaves her at the thought of him sleepily texting her with a headache similar to the one she has now. Are those perfectly sculpted raven waves of his in disarray after a night like the one they’d just had? Does he look like a fucking mess?

Her smile grows a little wider, then she begins typing up a response.

Ben  
  
I don’t know, that depends on how bad your hangover is.  
  
Nowhere near my top five but definitely an honorable mention.  
  
Ugh, I wish, mine’s Texas sized.  
  
Take some advil then and lay out a nice dress. Our first wedding is tonight, if you’re up for it.  
  


Tonight? Already? Shit, he moves fast. When he’d told her they’d be going to weddings, she’d thought she’d have a few days to mentally prepare herself. Still, this might be a good thing. The sooner they finish the wedding business, the sooner she can prove him wrong and go back to life as she knows it.

Though maybe she’d like to have him for a drinking buddy even after this is over.

Mouth shifting, Rey nods to herself, realizing that if she doesn’t go to a wedding with Ben tonight, she’s just going to sit on her ass staring at the next five cases she has and drinking more wine than she should. A change would actually be nice, and he is good company.

_What the hell?_

Ben  
  
I think I am, actually.  
  
Fantastic. Color theme is lavender. I’ll pick you up at eight if you text me your address.  
  
Isn’t it unsafe to text a stranger your address when you’ve only known him for twelve hours?  
  
Luckily for you I’m not a serial killer.  
  


Another laugh falls from her lips, shaking her whole body as she rolls over in the bed, and finally pushes herself into a sitting position. “Fucking hell.”

Ben  
  
No, but you might be an idiot.  
  
I’ll see you at six.  
  
Make it 6:15. I need time to change.  
  
See you at 6:15.  
  


She checks the time. It’s currently half-past seven and she has to be in the office at nine. This leaves her with just under eleven hours until Ben drags her to their first wedding, and weirdly enough, she’s kind of nervous.

The last wedding she went to was when she was a child and it was her foster mother’s friends. She’d been the flower girl and all she could remember about it was tearing her dress and crying. Not exactly a pleasant experience. She’d kind of been put off of weddings ever since.

Honestly, that wedding is probably why she hates them. It certainly didn’t help her become more of a romantic. She doesn’t think it’s the reason she became a divorce lawyer, but maybe it was a push in that direction. A bunch of failed attempts at dating in high school and college probably contributed, too. She’d dated all sorts of people, but in the end, she’d come to the conclusion that they all kind of sucked.

Love is a lie, infatuation is the truth. Simple as that.

No amount of weddings can change her mind. Ben can take her to as many as he wants, but he’s not going to get the outcome he desires. At the bare minimum, she won’t give that to him out of pure spite even if she does start to think that maybe there is some truth to what he says. He’d told her he has a bit of a petty streak going back years; well, so does she.

A smirk tilts the corners of her mouth as she stands, setting her phone down as she makes her way into her closet to pick out the day’s suit. She’s got ten and a half hours until Ben sets out on his mission to prove love exists, and as much as she hates to admit it, she’s going to spend every spare minute between then and now wondering just how the hell he plans to pull it off, and knowing he’s going to lose.

*

The office is in an old, historic building in downtown Savannah. Given the architecture of the rest of the buildings in the area, it doesn’t exactly stand out, but she finds it charming every time she goes in. Sure, a divorce attorney’s office isn’t exactly the most cheerful place, but the bright blue paint gives her brain that little rush of dopamine it needs to get through the day nonetheless.

It also has the least expensive parking in the city, so that’s a mood booster.

She walks in to find herself immediately hit by the smell of a clean cotton scented candle that Rose always leaves burning on her desk. The smell of the damn thing is so powerful that even though she has to walk up the stairs to get to their office, she catches it the second she walks through the door.

That scent has become another comforting familiarity for her. It and the smell of their boss’s Chanel perfume are sometimes overwhelming, but it helps her keep herself centered and sane. Especially when she’s dealing with particularly difficult clients. Sometimes sitting back and taking a deep breath does wonders.

Amilyn Holdo’s perfume, however, is absent today. If Rey recalls correctly, her superior is finally taking advantage of some of her vacation days and has gone off to the other side of the country, trading one coast for another. Today it’s just going to be her and Rose, which isn’t terrible.

Things just aren’t quite the same when one of them isn’t there.

Tapping two knuckles on the glass-paneled door to their office, Rey peeks her head in just as Rose looks up, promptly beaming at her from behind thick-rimmed glasses as she releases her hold on her computer’s mouse. “Good morning!”

“Morning,” she replies, making her way over to the desk across the room from her coworker’s and setting down her things--just a jacket and her purse--by the windowsill in front of her. “I’m fighting off one of the nastiest hangovers I’ve ever had so if I’m not all there today, that’s why.”

Rose snorts. “Honestly I would be the same. Hell, I was the same just last week. Remember the McCormicks?”

Wincing, she manages a nod, sitting back in the slightly ancient, creaky swivel chair her butt calls home for hours every day. “Yeah, I do. Not the best outcome.”

“Mm.” Rose leans back in her chair, her arms crossing over her chest. “You look happy for someone who’s just fought off the world’s worst hangover and won.”

All she can do is blink. Happy? Sure, she’s in a better mood than she should be--probably because there was no walk of shame or awkwardness involved in how the night had ended--but she doesn’t think she’s… Is she? One of her hands reaches up, her fingertips ghosting over the curve of her cheek, and sure enough, there’s just the tiniest hint of a smile there. _Shit_ , maybe she is happy.

“What happened to you last night?”

Rey bites her lip, unsure how to respond to that for a couple of seconds, then she leans forward, bracing her elbows on the desk. “I went to the bar down the street from the court last night, right?”

“Right.”

“I don’t know where you think I’m going with this, but it’s not where you think.”

The other woman’s brows furrow as she too leans forward. “What do you mean?”

“I met this man there…”

“Okay…”

“And get this, we start having that ‘oh you had a shit day, that sucks’ conversation you have with strangers at a bar that usually winds up in some kind of one-night stand?”

She gestures for her to continue. “But you didn’t have a one night stand?”

“No, because get this, he was a fucking wedding planner, Rose.”

Another amused snort. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m deadly serious. A fucking wedding planner. A gorgeous one, too. Would’ve been perfect for a one night stand, except…” She sighs, half wanting to slam a palm into her forehead. “I accidentally became friends with him instead.”

“I’m sorry, you went to a bar and made friends with someone? What the hell is wrong with you? You aren’t supposed to talk to them after.”

“We didn’t just talk after, we did an Uber pool together and we texted this morning.” She holds up a finger just as Rose starts stammering out a response. “Because we sort of… made a bet.”

Tilting her head forward, her friend stares at her like she’s just grown a second head. “A bet?”

“A bet.” Her lips part again, that smile on her face growing a little broader at the thought of him. She doesn’t want to think about what that means. “He’s a wedding planner, right? So, his damage was that he had a client walk out on his bride at the wedding. I told him most of his clients will just end up being my clients anyway.”

“Probably true.”

“He asked me why, and I was honest. Told him that love is an illusion.” She tilts her head to the side at her friend’s skeptical look. “Don’t look at me like that, Rose, you know it’s true. And next thing I know he’s inviting me to go to weddings with him as his plus one. He thinks it’ll prove me wrong.”

This time, she’s the one to hold up a hand. “Rey, I know we separate marriages for a living, but come on. That doesn’t mean love is dead. Half of all marriages still work out!” Then she shrugs. “Look at Jannah and I. We’ve been together since college and every day I still feel the same way I did the first time I saw her.”

“Look, maybe there are rare exceptions, but the point is, I don’t think it’s realistic to strive for. You’re lucky, but what you have isn’t as common as people think it is.” She laughs as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, waving it in the air. “Anyway, I’m supposed to be picked up tonight at a quarter past six. He didn’t tell me where the wedding is, though.”

“Oh, that’s trustworthy.” They both laugh, then Rose bites her lip. “It’s probably on Tybee Island’s South Beach, though. That’s popular this time of year.”

“Mmm.” She reaches down to turn on her computer, the desktop whirring quietly to life as she turns to face it. “I’m looking forward to it, though, so I don’t know what that says about me.”

“Well, whether you believe in love or not, weddings are fun. You’re essentially attending a party.” Now Rose is smiling, too. “There’s free food--which I know you love--dancing, booze…”

She scoffs. “Because I _totally_ need to drink more right now.” Another wave of pain passes through her head, and she groans as she rests it on the desk. “I’m going to need to take it easy tonight.”

“Nothing’s quite as sobering as a good day sorting through people’s bull shit,” she replies, gesturing to the stack of papers next to her monitor. “Shall we?”

Looking at the stack on _her_ desk, Rey exhales deeply. “Yeah, wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” her coworker replies, and something tells her she isn’t just talking about the workload.

*

Ben  
  
You said lavender, right?  
  
Huh?  
  
Dress code. It’s lavender, right?  
  
Oh, right. Yes, it is.  
  
Sorry, I’ve been busy finalizing details all day. Someone fucked up the lilies.  
  
Oh no the poor lilies.  
  
Look there’s not a bride in this wedding, but I swear to god this man just invented the term “groomzilla.”  
  


Rey doesn’t use the word, “chortle,” lightly, but that’s exactly what she does. She fucking chortles and she’s fairly certain it isn’t pretty. She’s got tears springing to her eyes, and if she isn’t careful, she’s going to get her carefully applied black mascara onto the skirt of the dress she’s plucked out from her closet.

It’s not on her body yet, but she’s been looking at it wondering if it fits the dress code of the wedding. According to Ben’s most recent text, it’ll be fine.

She should probably text him back, though.

Ben  
  
Jesus. That bad?  
  
No, he’s normally a very nice guy, I think he’s just nervous. I would be, too.  
  
Fair enough. You on your way?  
  
Yeah, I’ll see you soon.  
  
See ya.  
  


Then she tosses her phone onto her bed with the dress and begins to remove her lawyer’s clothes. Her suit jacket, button-down, and trousers all fly toward her hamper with a stunning lack of grace. Those are followed shortly after by the lace bralette she’d worn beneath it all to work that day. The dress she’s chosen for this wedding doesn’t exactly allow for a bra. As she slips it over her head, she thanks the gods of puberty that she’d only ever developed B-cups, or she’d probably be in trouble.

There’s always pasties, though, if it comes down to that.

Hopefully, the dress code doesn’t mind her being a little revealing, because the only lavender she has in her closet has a neckline that dips between her breasts, stopping somewhere above her navel. It’s even lower in the back, and a part of her is kind of nervous that it’ll slip and fall from her shoulders, leaving her exposed, but the dress feels snug enough that she doubts it’ll happen.

It also looks… very good on her. She’s had this in the back of her closet for a couple of months ever since a work gala a few months ago when she’d bought it thinking she would go but wound up getting food poisoning two hours before. Now it has time to shine, but it’s also the only dress she has that’s fitting for an occasion like this.

She’s probably going to need to go on a shopping trip soon. Odds are, different weddings are going to have different themes. Lavender won’t work for everything.

Sighing to herself, she heads back toward her closet, the edges of her skirt sweeping the floor as she sets about looking for the right pair of heels, settling on a couple of old, white, strappy things that if she recalls correctly are comfortable enough. They’re just a bitch to get into. She struggles for a good five minutes with them before she collapses back onto her bed, panting as her phone dings again.

A genius isn’t needed to tell her that’s probably Ben and he’s here. _Shit._ Here goes. Thrusting out her hand, she palms clumsily at her bastard device, holding it in front of her face as she reads what he’s sent her.

Ben  
  
I’m here.  
  
I think.  
  
Does the building look kind of run down but like it’s done on purpose?  
  
Yep.  
  
You’re here! I’ll be out in a minute I just need a second to recover. I have bastard shoes.  
  
PFft okay.  
  


Allowing herself a few more seconds to lay there panting, Rey pushes herself up, shoving her phone into the fabric of her dress as she makes her way to the mirror hanging over her bedroom door. She didn’t have time to adjust her makeup today, but she’ll just shove a lipstick between her boobs and go.

“Okay,” she breathes, doing just that as she reaches into her bathroom, grabbing hold of the little pink Maybelline tube, and shoving it between her breasts before she grabs her purse off the doorknob and makes her way out of the apartment.

*

The car waiting for her outside is black, but somehow it reflects light so brightly, she finds herself blinded even though it’s just a streetlight. It isn’t quite bright enough to conceal the man leaning against the passenger side, nor the smirk on his face.

He must walk around looking like that, she thinks. Half the time she’s seen him--which, yes, she’s only seen him twice--he’s got the corners of his mouth tilted up like he knows the world’s secrets. If he does, she’s okay with it. There’s something trustworthy about him, about _them_ that just clicks in some weird way.

That smirk is quickly wiped from his face when he looks at her, his jaw falling slack, lips parting softly as he mouths something that looks vaguely like, “Wow.”

Now she’s the one who’s smirking. “Cat got your tongue?”

Blinking a few times as if he can’t believe he’s just been spoken to, Ben shakes his head. “No, I just--you--I--” He sighs. “You look good.”

She can feel her cheeks grow warm. “Thank you.” Then she gestures vaguely to her dress. “Is this lavender enough?”

His eyes sweep over her body again, still blinking in disbelief as he nods. “Yeah, that’s perfect.”

“Thanks,” she says, then she’s the one letting her eyes sweep over his body, taking a moment to--platonically, of course--admire the way he looks in a tux. Sure, she’d seen it last night, but there’s a difference between him looking disheveled and upset and put together and-- _damn_. One thing is abundantly clear to her; Ben Solo was made to wear suits. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Unlike her, he doesn’t have foundation on to hide his blush, and she catches sight of a pink flush coloring his cheeks before he reaches back and opens the passenger side door. “Thank you. Shall we?”

Taking a deep breath, she walks forward, placing a hand on the roof of the car before smiling at him. “We shall.” Then she slides into the car, and he shuts the door behind her.

As he walks away, she finds herself feeling a little nervous. Her heart is racing a little fast, her palms are slightly clammy, and she has this feeling in her chest like she’s either about to laugh or cry. What that means exactly, she’s not sure, but for now, she’s going to chalk it up to being nervous about attending a wedding for the first time in twenty years.

It’s not about anything else. It can’t be. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rey's dress](https://www.lulus.com/products/heavenly-hues-dusty-purple-maxi-dress/451472.html) at the wedding. Not quite lavender but I am emotionally attached to this now.


	3. Ceremony

The sun is still fairly high when they set out, though that’s how it tends to be toward the beginning of the evening in late July. There are a few clouds in the sky, painting the scenery above them in an array of pinks and blues and vivid oranges like a peach.

Perfect weather for a wedding, absolutely perfect. If only it isn’t about to end in tragedy.

Ben’s face is passive as he drives, his body tense while his face remains neutral. He’s nervous, isn’t he? She can’t blame him. After his last wedding, she’s certain he’s terrified now of running into another situation like that one, especially with their bet on the line. If his groomzilla pulls a run-away, she’s certain it won’t go over well.

“You look nervous,” she says, her tone dipping into a teasing one. Yeah, she wants to prove him wrong, but she isn’t going to be a dick about it. “Groomzilla got you down?”

The corners of his mouth tilt up as they come upon a red light. “No, just…” He sighs. “I’m nervous about tonight after what happened yesterday. I know it’s rare for people to do that, but now I’m kind of paranoid, you know.”

“I’m sure it won’t happen two days in a row, Ben.” She’s tempted to rest a hand on his arm, but their friendship is still so new and while it feels easy to talk and be with him, she doesn’t want to push his boundaries. _Especially while he seems as anxious as he is_. “What are the odds?”

He scoffs. “I’m going to need you to knock on wood when we get there.” Then he accelerates as the light turns back to green. “But no, I don’t think it’ll happen. These two seem really sweet. They’re above that kind of shit. I think the one groom was just nervous because--I don’t know, there’s something about a wedding that makes the two people getting married remarkably nervous sometimes. It’s a big, life-changing event.” Before she can speak her dissent, he holds up a hand. “Even if it ends in divorce.”

“It won’t.”

“You seem awfully confident about that.”

“So do you.” He’s grinning again as he turns onto the next street. “How are you feeling right now? Are you nervous?”

“Why should I be? I’m just the guest, not the bride.”

“Well, yes, but you’re also going to a party with a strange man and several dozen other people you don’t know.” She can see his eyes flicker briefly over to hers before they look back on the road, seemingly checking to see if she’s okay. “I’d understand if you were.”

Another smile blossoms on her face. Yes, she should be nervous, and maybe if anyone else were taking her to this wedding, she would be, but she finds that she’s oddly relaxed around him. “No, I’m not. I mean, yes, it’s a little weird, most people who meet the way we do go home together, spend an awkward night at one person’s place, and walk out in yesterday’s clothes, but… not us apparently.”

Chuckling softly, Ben drums his fingers on the steering wheel for a second as his brows furrow as if he’s deep in thought. “Do you think if we didn’t have such conflicting careers we would’ve done just that? Say I was an accountant and you were still an attorney or vice versa?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she replies, then she blushes as her mind helpfully supplies her with several mental images of him pressing her against a wall, his hands drifting up the slits in her skirt as he starts-- _no_.

She can’t start thinking of him like that. The brief, fleeting thoughts she’d had about how sexy he is last night had been fine before they’d befriended one another and decided to put away any pretense of a one-night-stand, but now? If she makes a move, there are too many potential bad or at least awkward paths for them to go down for her to want to try it.

Being friends with benefits with someone is not above her, but if he isn’t down for that or if he reads too much into it--or worse, if _she_ reads too much into it--there can be no way it ends well.

Biting her lip, she changes the subject. “Anway, do you tend to go to these with a plus one, or do you just go?”

“I usually go alone.” The smile on his face falls. He’s realizing something, and she’s not sure what it is, but _God_ , she wishes she could ask him. “But it’ll be fun to have a dance partner at the reception.”

Her skin grows pale as she realizes that she’s going to be dancing with him. Weddings aren’t just an exchange of “I dos” sometimes, they involve a reception, and a reception involves… dancing. _Fuck_. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“I don’t dance.”

“It’s not a formal waltz, Rey, you’ll be fine. Besides, there’ll be a bar.”

She knows that; he’s told her before. The reason she’d had any reservations about attending this wedding is that she was nervous about drinking again so soon. Still, it might help her if for some reason a dance circle breaks out at this reception and she gets pushed out into it. “Oh, sure, but I still don’t dance. Even drunk Rey doesn’t dance.”

“Not even in your bedroom alone at one in the morning?” he asks, and her heart begins racing as he accelerates down the entrance ramp to the highway, feeling as if its in tune with the car. “You know, the best way to do it?”

Yes, she does. On rare nights when things have gone well and she’s feeling good and she’s had a glass or two of wine she sometimes plugs in her headphones and bounces around like she’s a pop star. It’s fun, but she’s never going to do it publicly.

She’d even hung in the back at her high school’s prom chatting with her date by the wall the entire night. Every single dance she’s ever been to has managed to involve no dancing on her part.

But he doesn’t need to know that. “I don’t dance, not in front of people.”

A smug look blossoms on his face. “I think we’re going to change that.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

He’s grinning as he looks at her again. “We’ll see.” Then the car speeds along the highway, taking them closer and closer toward the wedding, and figuring out which one of them will turn out to be right.

*

The wedding is in a little beachside house that looks like it was built in the eighteenth century, but it’s definitely seen a paint job or two since then. Columns line the porch like it’s the damn White House, painted a similar white color, though these remind her much more of a Grecian temple than the house currently hosting the Cheeto of a President.

It’s similar on the inside. Rustic looking brick walls and Victorian-era furniture sit beneath a series of arches that lead into the main room, which has been set up with several rows of chairs. Some of them have already been filled, but there are just enough empty ones that Rey doesn’t feel weird as Ben leads her to one that’s two rows back from the front and gestures for her to sit.

“Aren’t you going to sit with me?”

“I have to check in with the grooms, make sure everything’s okay. Part of the job, but I’ll be back before the ceremony starts.” He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket, then hands her what looks like some kind of card. “That’s the invitation. If anyone asks who you are, just show them that. I don’t think they’ll bother you, though.”

She nods. “Okay, thanks,” she replies, then he’s disappearing back down the aisle, and she’s left looking at the invitation.

There are flowers all along the edges of the aisle and on the ceiling like streamers--which is probably what they’re attached to--with lavender-colored petals that match the ones she sees lining the invitation. Well, not the entire invitation, just the picture at the top of two men smiling at one another like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

It makes her feel a ping of happiness for a second looking at them. They’re smiling so big there are crinkles by their eyes as they look at each other. Their hands are on each other’s cheeks, their foreheads pressed together, the sun shining between them so that they’re nearly in silhouette, but there’s just enough light for her to make out their features.

Beneath the picture, their names are written in silver, cursive font. “Finn Trooper and Poe Dameron.” She’s not sure who is who, but she guesses Finn’s the guy on the left and Poe’s the one on the right given the placement of the names unless that was unintentional. Though whoever designed the invitations may not have thought of this, since most other people at this wedding know who they are.

She’ll figure it out soon enough. The wedding starts in ten minutes so surely she’ll know by the time the reception starts and she has to interact with them, at least.

Now she’s kind of nervous. She doesn’t know these people, but she’s about to witness one of the biggest moments of their lives. There’s something new to find weird about what she and Ben have started doing every minute, but as she looks at the invitation again, she thinks it’s also kind of exciting. It’s a break from her everyday routine, and while she’s fairly certain what’s happening here won’t work out, there’s something special about it, too.

Chatter fills the room, but she looks at the sea of random faces, taking them all in as she waits for her date to return. Well, technically she’s the date and he’s the guest, but still. It’s more fun to call him her date in her head.

Eventually, he returns to the aisle, his shadow hovering over her for a second before he sits down. “Hey, sorry I took so long, they’re gonna start any second now.”

“No, don’t worry.” She shrugs. “This is your job, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he replies, then he adjusts his tie, loosening the knot around his neck. “I think this one’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah,” he says, then a voice sounds from the front of the room telling them to rise, and before she can ask him any more questions, he offers her his hand. “Shall we?”

Placing her hand in his, she rolls her eyes at him but lets him pull her up so that she’s standing. If it weren’t for his hand holding her steady, she thinks she’d sway on the evil heels she’s worn to the wedding, but she doesn’t. He holds her hand until she’s up, then he lets go, and they both turn to face the far end of the aisle, where the wedding party will be entering at any moment.

A soft guitar melody fills in over the speakers, and it’s not quite _Here Comes the Bride_ , but it has similar energy. It certainly gets the point across.

Not long after, two men with lavender-colored flower blooms on their lapels walk down the aisle, followed by two women in dresses that are a shade or two lighter than Rey’s. All of them are grinning from ear to ear as they walk. No one’s moving in any particular rhythm, it almost feels casual, even, and by the time the actual grooms make their way toward the--is it a priest or a minister? She’s not sure, she isn’t exactly knowledgeable in this kind of thing--end of the aisle, her heart rate has calmed down significantly.

This is actually kind of nice, she thinks as she watches them take their places. The audience is instructed to sit as Finn and Poe take one another’s hands, and she catches Ben’s gaze. Of course, the bastard is smirking again, causing her to scowl in a way she hopes rides home the message of _fuck off_ enough for him, but she doesn’t think it does given the quiet snickering that follows.

The minister begins the “We are gathered here today,” speech, and his snickering, though already subtle, ceases entirely.

It’s kind of beautiful, she thinks, watching the way the two of them look at each other. If she’s being honest, it isn’t hard to see why Ben still believes in love and its ability to stand the test of time. Finn and Poe look sweet; all their blushing cheeks and long, wistful gazes give even her heart a bit of a flutter. They look like the picture of a romance novel, the end of a romantic comedy, and it is oddly endearing, but she knows how quickly all of that can change.

Then the one she thinks is Poe announces that they’ve both written their own vows, and she starts to wonder if maybe this couple might be one of the fifty percent that don’t end up divorcing. He’s talking about how he first met Finn, how when they first met, he’d known instantly he was never going to love anyone else, and it makes her heart melt a little.

She hears the story of how they became a couple, how Poe was Finn’s first kiss at Atlanta Pride, how they’d gone out on their first date that very night. There are a few bashful looks exchanged between the two of them that suggests how the date ended, but then Finn begins his vows, and their audience finds itself distracted.

Finn talks about how he’d never thought he’d fall in love with anyone because before Poe he’d never had a serious relationship, and he’s so lucky to have him in his life. It’s kind of cheesy, but she’s still smiling with the rest of the guests as they exchange rings.

There’s not a lot she remembers about the wedding where she’d been a flower girl. She vaguely recalls a bunch of repeated words and a brief, awkward kiss preceded by an exchanging of rings, but she doesn’t know if it was this tender or not, if it was this sweet, if they’d looked at one another the way the two men in front of her do. It feels like the first time she’s ever seen something like this, and she still thinks it’ll change, that it won’t end the way it started, but she’ll admit it sure is convincing.

When they say, “I do,” her breath hitches at the look they give one another before they go in for the kiss, a sound she masks quickly with a cough. It doesn’t seem to convince the man beside her that she isn’t reacting, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He can’t say anything over the applause that erupts once the grooms’ lips meet, Poe’s arms wrapping around Finn’s shoulders as he smiles into the kiss.

That smile looks like it could outshine the sun. It’s delightfully sweet and much to her surprise, she’s enjoying it, she’s cheering right along with everyone else as the two of them walk back down the aisle, waving to their friends and family as they hold up their joined hands between them.

Ben leans down into her ear, his breath ghosting over it as he speaks, “Still think love is dead?”

“You make a very compelling argument, your case is solid, but there’s still a lot of data against you,” she replies, her hands still clapping together as the couple finishes making their way back down the aisle. “The night is young, Solo.”

His dimples make themselves known as he laughs, the sound rumbling in her chest. “It is, it really is.” He holds out his elbow for her, waiting until she takes it before he leads them out into the aisle, following the rest of the crowd as they make their way out to the reception on the beach. “We still have the reception. _You_ still owe me a dance.”

A shiver runs down her spine, one she quickly represses as she tightens her grip on his arm, breathing in deeply through her nose. “In your dreams, Ben. I don’t dance on the first wedding.”

“I’m sure I can change your mind. It’s a party, Rey, you should enjoy it.”

It’s true, she should be enjoying this party, but right now spite seems like a better motivator. “Maybe, but… the last wedding I went to was decades ago, so--”

“So enjoy it then. It’s a celebration, Rey. This is the happiest night of their lives. Revel in it, let it show you that something like this is possible, it isn’t just a fever dream.” His voice drops low as he speaks, but somehow in spite of all the people around them, the chatter that roars loudly in her ears, she can hear him loud and clear. “It’s a reality.”

“We’ll see,” she replies, throwing his earlier words right back at him as they make their way out of the building, and onto the beach.

Instantly she’s captured by the smell of the sea, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, the lights that have been strung between poles overhead and woven between tables set out on the sand. At the bare minimum, this is going to be a beautiful party, a great opportunity for pictures, and for that alone, she thinks tonight might just be worth it.

“You like what you see.” It’s not a question, but a statement. They both know her answer. “I put it together myself, you know.”

“It’s lovely. You have an eye for design.”

“I should hope so, I am a wedding planner.”

They both chuckle at this as their feet touch the sand, then she groans. “Oh, I’m going to have to take off my shoes, aren’t I?”

“Probably, but so am I, it’s just the cost of beach weddings.”

“Oh, damn you,” she mutters, then they weave their way through the tables to find their own, the excitement in the air touching even her as Ben’s laughter pierces her ears, and the party aspect of the wedding begins.


	4. Shut Up and Dance

Beach weddings are kind of nice, she’ll admit. The table she and Ben have sat down at is one of the closest to the ocean and the wedding party itself. Like the rest of it, the tables are decorated in lavender flowers, a hue that matches the hints of purple in the sunset above them.

The breeze blowing her hair back from her shoulders doesn’t hurt either, though she is concerned that her napkins might drift away if she doesn’t hold them down with her champagne flute. Ben seems to have the same concern, since he too is placing his palm over his napkin every time he takes a sip.

It almost makes her laugh watching him. Something is endearing about the way her new friend winces whenever his napkin decides to make a break for it. He looks so fucking goofy like this but she supposes that’s just part of his personality--something she’s still learning about. They’ve only known each other for a day, after all.

They need to get to know each other, especially since she’s about to be forced onto a dance floor with the man. “What kind of weather would it take to cancel this wedding, you think?” She holds her napkin in the air, waving it around for a couple of seconds before she sets it back down. “Bastard napkins keep trying to make a run for it.”

The corners of his mouth tilt up. “Not this if that’s what you’re asking. Maybe if it was gusting I’d suggest we take it inside, but given how close we are to the ocean.” He cocked his head toward the waves crashing gently against the shore. “This is normal.”

“How do you plan around the weather normally though?” she asks, then she shrugs when he quirks a surprised eyebrow. “I’m curious. I have no idea how wedding planning works.”

His smile only grows as he looks out at the rest of the wedding. Across the tables, the Dee-jay is setting up his booth for when everyone eventually starts to dance, in between that people are laughing so hard they’re crying, and off to the side, some people have already finished their dinner and are building sandcastles. Whatever Ben has done, he’s created some sort of magic. Everyone seems so happy here, and regardless of whether or not Poe and Finn eventually divorce, he’s done something wonderful.

“I can’t do much about planning for the weather until the forecasts come out. Especially when it comes to hurricane season.” He looks up at the sky as if at any second, large, dark clouds will manifest and ruin the day. “So far I haven’t had to cancel anything because of a hurricane, thank god, but I always try to have a backup.”

Humming her acknowledgment, she points to the grooms, who are currently attempting to feed each other whilst laughing too hard to handle their forks properly. “So how much input do they have?”

“They have complete control, I just show them their options. I arrange the menu, the venue, the seating.”

She falls quiet for a second, then she turns to look at him. “Was that a _Hamilton_ reference?”

“It… it might’ve been, yeah,” he replies, another grin blossoming on his face as he looks back at her. It’s cute, the way he smiles. Something about it lights up a room--or a beach--and makes her smile in return without meaning to. He’s infectious, really, the way he’s so joyful and optimistic, it’s something she wants to be around for as long as he’ll allow her to. “But that’s how it works. I just set the scene, they fill in the acts.”

“I’m the opposite.”

“You are, in every way.” Another tiny laugh leaves him. “It’s truly a marvel we get along as well as we do, but I’m not complaining.”

“Your optimism, though unrealistic, is infectious.” For some reason, she’s tempted to reach out and take his hand, but that’s probably a bit over the line for friends who have only known each other for a single day They need to bond a little more first. “You’re nice to be around. I thought I’d be dreading all these weddings, but you know how to throw a party and you’re funny.”

His eyebrows twitch toward his hairline. “You think I’m funny, huh?”

Shrugging, she reaches for her fork again. “A little. You’re charming.”

A light chuckle passes between them, then they fall into silence as they resume eating their food. Even just sitting in silence with this guy is pleasant. It doesn’t feel awkward like eating with other people or strangers, though she thinks the setting helps some. The wedding reception is _gorgeous_ to say the least. The lights overhead, the sunset, the sand, the ocean, and the quiet chatter all add to a comfortable, exciting atmosphere. It’s not her wedding day, but she suspects each of the guests feels as special as she does to be a part of this.

Maybe there is something to this wedding shit. It may not be the eternal life partner, but she’s starting to see the appeal. The party is fun, the company is _excellent_ , and she hates that she’s going to concede any points to him at all, but she’s not a fool. She’s having fun.

Eventually, the silence is broken when Poe stands up from his table clinking a spoon against his champagne glass, the high pitched ringing somehow filling the entire space. All eyes turn to him; heads and bodies turning in unison to the overjoyed groom as he gives them a thousand-watt smile.

Once everyone’s eyes are on him, he looks at his husband, then he lays a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. Finn and I--” He huffs a small laugh. “We’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. I mean… I’ve been waiting for this since the moment we met. I’ve known Finn for five years now, and every day with him has been a gift.

“I should’ve asked him to marry me years ago because this is the happiest day of my life.” He blinks as if fighting back tears. “This is my best friend, my soulmate, my home, and I can’t wait to spend every day learning how to go through life with you. I know I’m already sporting a gray hair or two, but I can’t wait to see yours, too. I think you’ll look cute.”

The crowd chuckles at this, then Poe picks up his champagne flute. “So here’s to us, to our many, many years together, and the memories we’ve made and will make.” He looks at his husband. “Here’s to Finn.”

“To Finn,” the crowd repeats, then together they sip from their flutes as Finn rises, and Poe takes his seat.

The second groom has an equally bright smile to the first. Both of them seem to shine, bliss radiating off of them in waves all the way over to the tables in the back and out to the ocean beyond. She can’t say she’d be surprised if the fishes also start smiling. “I don’t… I don’t even know what to say. Speeches have never been my strong suit, and if you don’t believe me, you can just ask my husband--”

Another chuckle settles over the crowd. “Husband. I can’t believe I get to say that now.” He sniffles, then he glances at his husband, something she doesn’t understand passing between their eyes. “But it feels good, you know, like it’s meant to be. I’m no believer in fate or a higher power, but I think that this is where I was always supposed to end up. At this table, at this day, on this time, talking to all of you and with this ring on my finger. It’s insane, but…

“But we’re here, and as he said, I can’t wait to see where it all goes. Poe, I owe you my life. I wasn’t in a good place when we met and you made me see the sun again. You’re everything to me, and I can’t wait to see you go fully gray either. I think you’ll look cute, too.”

Their audience chuckles again, then Finn raises his glass. “I’d also like to take a moment to thank our wedding planner, Ben Solo.”

At this, Ben perks up, raising his glass a little higher in response as he gives the groom a nod.

Finn’s smile grows wider. “This wouldn’t have happened without you, man. And I know my husband was a bit of a groomzilla earlier, but you’ve been a trooper through it all. We’re not always the easiest people, but you never let anything stop you from giving us the best day of our lives. You’ve made our dream come true, and the part you’ve played in allowing us to finally become one. We won’t forget what you did, or any part of this night for the rest of our lives.” He raises his glass to the sky. “To Ben Solo and us, for making it here and for our many days to come.”

“To Ben and us,” the crowd repeats, then they all drink again as Poe stands up and hugs his husband, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Now we’ve gotten the speeches out of the way…” Poe gives the crowd a knowing look, and though he hasn’t spoken the words yet, Rey can feel dread settling in the pit of her stomach. “Let’s dance.”

*

The dance floor is bustling just ten minutes later. There’s a little section of the beach without tables beneath the lights that the dozens of wedding guests have crammed themselves onto, but Rey and Ben have found themselves off in the back. Well, she’s _keeping_ them in the back. All she’s doing is swaying, but as the Dee-jay fills the beach with the opening notes of _Shut Up and Dance with Me_ , she can sense the man beside her itching to pull her out onto the floor.

“I’m not dancing,” she warns him, holding up a finger to his chest as he opens his mouth to protest. “Not unless you want to carry me out of here in an ambulance.”

He snorts, then his hand wraps around hers, his fingers swallowing her entire hand--fuck he has big hands--as he drags her out onto the dance floor anyway. “Shut up.”

A shriek leaves her as she’s tugged out, the skirts of her dress fluttering around them as he whirls her about, then she’s pulled back in, her body crashing gently into his. “Ben Solo, I’m going to kill you.” She’s not mad as she says it, though, just happy, really, really happy. She’s a little buzzed from champagne and lightheaded from being spun, but as her hand finds his shoulder and he begins pulling them into a fast-paced, not altogether there dance, but it’s fun.

Rey Kanata doesn’t dance, but maybe once in a blue moon, she might jump in rhythm. Sure, she’s shaking her head at him the entire time, but it’s fun, dancing with him to a cheesy song at a cheesy wedding with people who are far too happy for their own good. This is fun even if it’s not her idea of a good night.

“Having fun yet?” Ben asks as he pulls her in close for a second, the beat of the song slowing slightly on the bridge, the world around them moving steadily in time. “The night’s still young.”

“You suck, you know.” She pinches his shoulder as they dance, causing him to laugh as he whirls her around, her skirts fanning out around them before she comes back in, her body close against his. Her dance partner is warm, and from this close range, she can feel that heat radiating off of him in waves. That’s probably why she can feel a sheen of sweat starting to coat her skin, one that makes her pray her deodorant is strong enough to survive the night. “If I die, I’m suing you for damages.”

“You’re not going to die, I promise.” Then he leans down into her ear again. “Just enjoy it. We’ve still got a few more of these to go.”

“And how many weddings do you think we’ll be attending?” she asks, then she whirls him around, causing him to grin once he’s pulled back in. “Because I need to know how much to budget out for all this.”

“I think we’ll do… four or five altogether. Unless you think you’d like to make it a habit of coming to these with me.”

She scoffs. “In your dreams, Solo,” says, then the song changes to something a little slower, and their jumping fades into a much more gentle swaying.

Dancing isn’t as bad as she thought it would be. Once she lets go and loses herself to the music, it becomes easier, she enjoys it more. She’s still not sure if she’ll spend her nights dancing in her underwear to mid 2010s pop songs, but at least here, with the right atmosphere and partner, she’s allowing herself to find it fun.

Ben is fun if she’s being honest. It may not be the dancing, or the people, or even the stupid sun that’s just starting to slip beneath the horizon, but him? She likes him. Maybe it’s just in a platonic way, but he keeps finding new ways to make her smile so much her face is sore. All of him is infectious, she realizes, not just his smile.

Even slow dancing with him--something that should be reserved for awkward seventh grade formals--fills her with a sense of serenity. It’s like she’s found a new favorite stress ball, or is this just how it feels to find someone who relates to her on every level?

This feeling has started settling inside of her that she probably won’t be done with Ben after all these weddings are over. They’ve bonded now. She doesn’t have that many close friends, but she hasn’t felt like this about someone since she first met Rose, and the start of this friendship is oddly more intense than that one.

Whatever that means.

*

The dancing is still in full swing once the sun’s gone down, the stars are twinkling overhead, but Rey’s taking a break at their table, letting her toes comb through the sand beneath. _Fuck,_ she needed this. A breath of fresh air, a break from the crowd--she’d loved dancing with the wedding planner, but she hadn’t moved like that in years. Not since college when she’d made some vague attempts to workout.

She doesn’t regret it, though, not one moment of it. Dancing with him felt fucking good, providing some much-needed adrenaline that she hadn’t known she’d been missing. Even now she kind of wants to get back out there again, to grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor to lose themselves to that dumb Black Eyed Peas song that gets overplayed at every celebration.

 _Shit_ , she would even dance the damned _Cupid Shuffle_ with him, and that is probably the most overplayed dance song of all.

That’ll have to wait a minute. Right now, Ben’s chatting with the grooms off to the side, giving her a much-needed rest from social interaction, which she deeply, _deeply_ appreciates.

Or at least, he is at first, but then he begins walking over to their table, bringing Finn and Poe with him as he laughs at something the latter of the two has just said. She’s not sure what he’s laughing about nor does she care, she just knows that if he’s bringing them over it probably has something to do with their bet, and she doesn’t want to have to tell the two lovebirds heading her way that they’ll be in her office within the decade.

Putting on a polite smile, Rey gets to her feet, taking hold of Ben’s hand as he offers it out to her and leads her over to the other side of the table. “Rey, you already know who they are, but I’d like to formally introduce you to Finn and Poe Dameron.”

“Nice to meet you,” she tells them, offering her hand to Finn first then Poe. “And congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Finn replies, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. “So you’re Ben’s divorce attorney?”

Blinking her surprise, she looks at Ben. “Well, I’m not _his_ attorney, but--” A pause, then she points a finger at her date. “You told them about the bet.”

“Yeah, he did, while I was being groomzilla earlier.” Poe’s cheeks flush as he says this, then his husband squeezes his hand and he straightens. “Minor issue with flowers I think. I don’t know, I don’t remember now, I’m so--” He rests a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “I’m so happy.”

Rey stares at Ben, fighting back the urge to scowl at him just a little bit. “It’s a lovely wedding.”

“Ben tells us you don’t think love exists and that’s why you’re doing this.” Finn steps forward and places a hand over the one Poe’s left lingering on his shoulder. “And hey, I get it. We all have our views, and before this guy, I honest to god would’ve said the same thing you’re saying now. There isn’t always someone out there for everyone, but…” He smiles. “I think some of us do have a soulmate, and when we do find them, it’s the greatest feeling in the world.”

His husband nods his agreement. “Absolutely. You know you don’t need a life partner, but I wouldn’t trade this guy for the world. He’s just…” The man in front of her looks at his husband, his eyes twinkling like the stars above as she feels her cold, dead heart do a bit of a stutter in her chest. “He’s everything. It’s just made my life better to find him, you know?”

“This bet of yours sounds hilarious,” Finn adds, letting go of Poe so that he can take another step closer. “But fair warning, this man--” He points to Ben. “He’s got a talent for this kind of stuff. Be prepared to lose your bet, Rey.”

Despite how much she thoroughly disagrees with that assessment, she smirks at Ben as she shakes her head. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

“You keep saying that,” he whispers, his voice low enough that she doubts Finn and Poe hear. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’ll be wrong.”

“Hmm,” she replies, reaching over the table for her champagne flute. “Let me finish this drink then I want you to dance with me again. I’ll give you this, I do actually like dancing.”

Ben’s eyes fill with mischief as he reaches down for his glass of champagne, clinking the edge of it against hers before the two of them bring their glasses to their lips, and drink. Both of them chug the liquid a touch too quickly, causing Rey to suppress a burp as she sets the glass down, then looks at her dance partner, who’s already holding out his hand. “If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen, we have a score to settle.”

“See you around Ben, Rey,” Finn says, Poe repeating the goodbye before the two of them watch Ben drag Rey back over to the dance floor with a knowing look in their eyes that she doesn’t even begin to know how to decipher the meaning of.

*

By the time the wedding is over, Rey’s feet are aching and she didn’t even wear her fucking death heels for most of the night. Still, as she lets Ben lead her back to his car, she has a surprising lack of regrets. The night was wonderful, delightfully fun, and she finds she’s actually looking forward to the other weddings.

Well, is it the weddings or is she just looking forward to seeing him again? It might be him. They’ve crossed the border from strangers to friends, and like she looks forward to seeing Rose and Amilyn when she goes into work every day, she’s eagerly anticipating seeing him again at their next wedding. Or just whenever she wants to see him again, she supposes.

“So what’s the verdict after your first wedding?” Ben asks as they make their way across the parking lot, her skirts lifted by his hand while they cross over a speedbump. “Still think love is dead?”

“They were very cute, I’ll admit.” She takes her skirts back from him as they approach his car. “But I don’t know. I’ve just seen how fast that all can change so many times, it’s… I’m happy for them, but I think if they thought they had a chance of being together, they should’ve just thrown a party and been done with it. They shouldn’t have married.”

Ben groans. “I’ll change your mind, somehow, I swear to you.”

“Tough luck, Ben.”

They’re both grinning as they say this, even their disagreements seem to go smoothly, which is shocking to her given how much horrible arguing she sees daily. “I promised you before and I’ll promise you again, by the time we’ve attended five weddings, you’ll know you’re wrong.”

“So will you.”

“Let’s get you home, grumpy,” he replies, then together they open their car doors, and prepare to head home for the night, to rest until next time when she’s certain she’ll get another chance to prove him wrong and win their bet.


	5. Different Kind of Hangover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a minute I was so busy over the last few days I had NO TIME to write even though I really wanted to

Ben  
  
Hey do your feet hurt as bad this morning as mine do?  
  
I feel like the shadow of death himself has come to bestow upon me the plague of never walking again.  
  
I'm just being dramatic.  
  
BUT STILL  
  
Pfft, no, my feet are fine. You could’ve worn flats.  
  
I'm sure those would've been much more comfortable.  
  
But then my legs wouldn't have looked as good.  
  
Ah, yes, the unending predicament of your legs looking good.  
  
You laugh, but it's true.  
  
I suppose.  
  
What are you up to today?  
  
Ah, just work. Boss emailed early this morning saying we had a new client. It's supposed to be a breeze but I'm??? IDK I'm weary after the last one. THAT was supposed to be a breeze, too.  
  
Worst comes to worst, we can always just get another drink.  
  
True, I think you're my favorite drinking buddy at the moment.  
  
And also my only drinking buddy, but who's counting?  
  
I'm still honored.  
  
If that counts.  
  
Thanks! And since we're talking about getting drinks outside of the weddings... does this mean we're actually friends and not two people bonded by spite?  
  
I feel like this transcends spite.  
  
It does. I definitely consider you a friend. I don't know if that's premature, but I like being around you, even if you're a bit of a pessimist.  
  
Fuck off 😂  
  
😘 Yeah, yeah.  
  
Ugh, I have to be at work in thirty minutes and I don't want to get out of bed.  
  
Me either. I'm in the same boat.  
  
Let's both get out of bed on three, ready?  
  
This is so dumb  
  
One  
  
Really fucking dumb  
  
Two  
  
Ben, I swear to god  
  
👀  
  
...Fine.  
  
Three  
  


And just like that, Rey pushes herself out of bed, shutting off her phone as she goes into her bathroom to inspect the damage she’s done to herself overnight. She doesn’t feel as terrible as she had the morning prior, when she’d had a headache the size of Texas, but her head isn’t quite where she wants it to be.

At least last night she’d remembered to take her makeup off. There aren’t any awkward smudges around her eyes or pink pigments all over her mouth, but her head aches just enough that she gets a new reminder that she’s not nineteen anymore and she can’t just drink a single glass of champagne and _not_ expect a hangover. Who does she think she is?

Snorting to herself, she begins getting ready for the day, unable to stop herself from thinking about the night before. When was the last time she danced? Or even the last time she nodded her head to the beat of a song in a fucking Starbucks? She honestly can’t remember, but even though her feet currently feel like they’ve been beaten to hell, she can’t stop smiling.

Everything about the night had been perfect. The ceremony was sweet, the lavender was beautiful, painting a perfect compliment to the sunset, and the dancing— _God_ , the dancing—had been the most fun she’d had in years.

Then there was Ben. Somehow this stranger, this person she should’ve known for only a matter of hours and cast off into the wind, had become the first to make her laugh—really, truly, laugh—in a long time. Rey’s life isn’t void of laughter or joy, but it usually doesn’t have so much of it. Watching him trip over himself on a dance step or spit a hair out of his mouth when he got spun around had been among the highlights of her night.

Her new friend is a joy to be around, but she’s still wary. What if he turns out to be nothing like he seems? She’s only known him for two days, after all. He could be anything. He could turn out to be a master manipulator or a liar, or worse, he could fall in love with her and put them both through the heartbreak she’s watched so many people go through in the process.

But she can’t worry about that right now. Amilyn had emailed them about a new client and that means the only heartbreak she has to worry about is the one between these two people and no one else’s. Hopefully, theirs won’t be severe, and it’ll be over in a matter of weeks or months.

She doubts it.

*

When she gets to work, her mind is in a daze. She’s still visualizing whirling about on the dance floor with Ben; the sand in her toes, her dress hitting everything in sight, and her complete inability to care about anything but the smile on his face. Another one blossoms on her face even as Amilyn discusses with them the details of the case.

Whether or not she gets away with daydreaming, she can’t tell, but Rose keeps giving her suspicious looks every time their boss looks away during the meeting. Odds are, the woman speaking has no clue that Rey is completely distracted, but her other coworker? She knows.

“...I’m not worried about it, though. I’ve talked with them both, and they seem pretty clear on what they want. They just need us to draw up papers,” Amilyn says, making her realize she has no idea what she was worried about or what else may be happening with this latest couple.

“So they’re just regular people who happened to fall out of love?” Rose asks, her shoulders relaxing when their boss nods. “Great! That’ll be a breeze.”

Rey scoffs. “That’s what we said last time.” She locks eyes with Amilyn, the older woman giving her a sympathetic smile. “I would knock on wood. I think this last case taught us that even the slam dunks can go sideways.”

“That’s a fair point, but let’s try to be optimistic. Not every case is going to be a nightmare, either.”

Patting her shoulder, Rose leans forward. “Exactly, we’ve just got to get some stupid papers drawn up. You heard her say they’re still planning on living together right?”

“Oh. I, uh… I must’ve missed that.”

A quiet snort leaves her friend, then she pulls her phone out of her blazer pocket, and checks the time. “Well, maybe I can catch you up over lunch.” Then she looks up at Amilyn. “If that’s all right?”

Their boss nods. “Absolutely. Grab me a salad if you’re going by Maz’s.”

“I’ll tell my mother you said ‘hi,’ then,” Rey mutters as she and Rose rise from their seats, and make their way from the conference room.

On their way out, she pointedly avoids looking at her friend, her eyes remaining on her phone as she looks to see if there are any new texts from Ben. They’d had such a good conversation that morning, she finds herself kind of longing to have another, to talk to him again as soon as she possibly can. Weirdly enough, she misses him even though it’s been only twelve hours since she last saw him.

That’s a strange feeling she never expected to have.

Eventually, Rose figures out her bullshit, and as they make their way onto the street, she finally taps her shoulder. “So, I take it the wedding went well?”

“What?”

“You know. With your stranger from the bar?” She quirks an eyebrow. “You were so distracted during that meeting, I figured the night was memorable.”

“Oh, it was! We had a lot of fun, actually. I’ll give Ben this, weddings are _fun_.” She actually laughs, her body shaking as she and Rose walk side by side down the street, drifting between the mix of tourists and other workers on their lunch break as they go. “I didn’t know they could be that fun. It was like attending some grand party, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I enjoyed it.”

“Did you get laid?”

“Rose!”

“What? You’re smiling so much it’s not a hard conclusion to come to.”

“No, I didn’t get laid, we just—we just had a really good time.”

The woman beside her grins. “Babe, that’s _awesome_. And your date? Not a creep or anything?”

“Believe me, I had that thought, but it didn’t happen.” Again her mind drifts to how easy it all was, how she’d felt safe all night, her mind at ease even when they’d started drinking. It’s not like anything she normally feels when she goes out with someone—it’s never so effortless she feels like she’s made a real and true connection with them. “He’s a good guy, and weirdly enough I think I just made my first bar friend.”

“I’m so proud.”

“Thank you, I am, too.”

They fall quiet after that as they walk into her mother’s cantina. Maz is somewhere in the back as usual, their paths crossing only every so often when she comes by, so it’s the staff members behind the counter who give her nods of acknowledgment as they walk in. Being the owner of her own restaurant means her mother is a busy woman, but she tries to come by and see her when she can.

The same goes for Maz, who sometimes brings her food when she forgets to swing by the cantina during the workday. Symbiosis at its finest.

“You think you’ll stay friends when this is all over?” Rose asks, interrupting her thoughts.

Another smile parts her lips. “We will. I’m sure of it. He’s—I don’t know, Rose, do you think platonic soulmates could be a thing?”

An amused snort fills her ears, then Rose nods. “I think soulmates are soulmates. Could be anything you want it to be,” she tells her, then before she can ask her to elaborate on what she means, they’re approaching the counter, the teenager behind it ready and waiting to take their orders, and she knows the conversation will have to wait for later.

Or maybe even never.

*

Luckily, Rose never brings it up again, and they go about the rest of their day in peace. By the time Rey gets home, the conversation is completely forgotten about. Well, some of it is. The one thing that lingers with her is the fact that her coworker thinks she and Ben must’ve been fucking for her to smile so much.

It’s kind of funny to her, if she’s being honest. Maybe it’s the kind of thing he will find funny, too, so as she’s finishing up a little bit of work on today’s case in bed, she decides she’s going to text him about it the second she’s done.

As usual, he answers rather quickly.

Ben  
  
So, my coworker thinks I'm fucking you.  
  
Why? Cause we met up last night?  
  
Because I had a good enough time—don't let it get to your head—that she made the assumption that because I was smiling I must be getting laid. Well, she suspects it, at least. I told her we're just friends buT SHES DETERMINED.  
  
I just think it's funny that you have a coworker who believes in romance.  
  
Not necessarily romance. Just sex.  
  
Ah, I see.  
  
And do you believe in sex, Rey?  
  
I do love me a one-night-stand.  
  
Fair enough  
  
How'd the case go?  
  
Everyone thinks it's supposed to be easy.  
  
I don't think it will be.  
  
Why not?  
  
Can I call you?  
  
Absolutely  
  


For some reason, her fingers tremble slightly as she hovers over the call button. She’s not sure why she’s nervous, all she’s planning on doing is venting, but she’s been shaking a little ever since he asked her if she believes in sex.

She won’t allow herself to think about sex with Ben. If she thinks about sex with Ben… it’s too soon. Maybe they can be friends with benefits one day, but she’d like to solidify their friendship first, give it a solid ground to stand on. Then maybe she can run her hands through those raven waves of his, then she can tug him down to her and ride him until he can’t see straight and—

 _Shut the fuck up brain,_ she thinks to herself, then she presses the call button, and forces herself to calm down.

Ben answers on the first ring. “Hello?” His voice sounds energetic and hopeful, just like it had last night before they’d danced so hard they’d both been sore on the drive home. “You okay?”

“Hey! I’m fine, I’m just…” She sighs, running a hand through her hair as she leans back against the headboard of her bed. “I don’t know. I keep knocking on the wood of every damn tree I see just in case. I’m not even superstitious, but dear god, I never trust that a case will be a breeze. It’s the end of a marriage. It’s never _that_ easy, you know?”

“That’s fair.”

Humming softly in agreement, Rey opens her eyes, looking out at the room as if she’ll suddenly be able to see him there. “I tend to be wary. I spend most of my time on the tougher cases because I have a tough emotional shell, but as a result, that means I see the most shit out of anyone in the office—mind you, it’s a small office—and even when I know a case is going to be a no brainer, I still push caution anyway.”

“I kind of do the same thing in a way.” He pauses for a second, then he takes a deep breath. “I have to prepare for the worst-case scenario in my job, you know? Sure, my worst-case scenario is whether or not there’ll be a thunderstorm or fucking hurricane during a beach wedding, but sometimes I have to anticipate whether the couple will want to call it quits, if a bridesmaid or groomsman leaves the wedding party and I have to rearrange everything—you have to prepare for the worst, I think, in any line of work because shit can always hit the fan.”

It’s like he’s read her god damn mind. Mentally, she does a fist pump, but vocally, she keeps herself pretty composed. At least, she imagines she does. If she doesn’t, he says nothing about it. “Exactly! It’s just making sure everything goes as smoothly as possible.”

“Just don’t ever assume your worst-case scenario is going to happen, though. Prepare for it, make plans in case it _does_ happen, but…” He trails off for a second as if he’s lost in thought, then he clears his throat. “Don’t let it become the only thing you can see happening.”

 _Don’t let it become the only thing you can see happening._ That’s good advice, actually. It’s pretty fucking solid. She shouldn’t be surprised, she knows he’s a smart guy, but still, he continues to defy her expectations in every possible way. “That’s a good idea.”

“Thank you, I aim to please.”

A tiny chuckle leaves her. “Maybe we should start skipping out on weddings altogether and just get together for random philosophy discussions every so often instead.”

All he gives her is an amused snort, and she can’t see him, but she gets the feeling he shakes his head before he answers her. “Oh no, you’re not getting out of this bet. If you decide to change it, you’re forfeiting your right to winning.”

“Oh, so it’s like that, huh?”

“It’s like that.” She can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks, causing one of her own to part her lips as she hears him shift the phone against his ear. “We have another gig next week, speaking of our bet. If you’re up for it, that is.”

Thank god she has another week before she has to put on another fancy dress and heels. That’s plenty of time to rest, but she’s still going to give him hell. “I’m up for it, but I still think you should quit and just buy me drinks. You did say you enjoyed drinking with me.”

“Oh no. You’re not getting out of this easily, we’ve both established we have too much of a petty streak to ever consider surrendering a bet.” Her smile grows a little wider at this. He’s right, they won’t surrender that easily; they’re both going to give this fight their all. “Besides, if I surrender the bet, I lose my chance to see your legs in those dresses.”

Thanking every star that he can’t see her right now, Rey bites her lip to keep from giggling like a blushing schoolgirl as a crimson blush heats her cheeks. Is he flirting with her? She’s flirted with many a friend before, and flirting can definitely be a casual thing, but she still finds her heart is racing a touch too quickly. “Ah, I see, so you have a dubious purpose in inviting me out to all these weddings.”

“No, it’s just a bonus.” A pause. “I didn’t freak you out by saying that, did I? I just—just meant it as a compliment.”

She’s still blushing even as she nods, mentally slapping her forehead at the realization that he can’t see her. “No, no you didn’t, I thought it was funny. Maybe even a little sweet.”

“Always happy to make you laugh, Kanata.”

“You’re a kiss ass, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Once in a while, yes.” Then he takes another breath. “So you’re good for… I think it’s Thursday night?”

“Absolutely. What’s the dress code for this one?”

“Ocean themed. They’re not on the beach this time, but…” She can hear the shrug in his voice. “It is what it is.”

Another laugh falls from her lips. “I mean, I think we’re close enough to the ocean that it still counts, you know?”

“Yeah.” A yawn fills her ears, causing her to fight off the urge to do the same as he speaks again. “I think I need to get some sleep. Before I go, though… Do you feel any better about your case? I don’t want you to stay up half the night worrying.”

 _Fuck,_ that’s so sweet. He’s known her for two days and he’s already willing to put off sleep just to make sure she’s okay. “I’m okay,” she promises him. “You just get some sleep, okay?”

“I will. And feel free to call me anytime you need to, I’m always here to listen.”

That makes her heart skip a beat again. “Okay. I’ll see you Thursday, then?”

“See you Thursday,” he replies, then he hangs up, and she’s left staring at her bedroom ceiling, still grinning like a fool and blushing like she’s just run a marathon, wondering how the hell Ben Solo had managed to change so much in her life so fast.


	6. And Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter count will probably go up soon lol
> 
> Also this fic has [art](https://twitter.com/ang3lview/status/1304436109137469442?s=21) by ang3lview on twitter.

Thursday takes forever to roll around. It feels as if she’s waiting for a whole decade, maybe two, but eventually she wakes up, checks her phone, and sees a date that makes her smile. She’s got work today as usual, but the way she sees it, that’s just how she’s going to spend the time until Ben swings by her place again.

The way she’s been looking forward to it, is, to be honest, embarrassing. She’s been texting him off and on through the week, their phone calls becoming something of a nightly ritual, and each time they talk, it’s one of the best parts of her day.

They’re actually texting right now. Sure, it’s just about the next wedding, located in a quaint little house off River Street, but still. It’s wonderful. The best part of all this is that she has him. He’s like a breath of fresh air from the chaos of her everyday life, even if he drags her into a new kind of chaos every so often.

Like tonight.

Right now, she’s wearing the dress she’d picked out with Rose a few days earlier, which is a soft baby blue that comes right to her mid-thighs. It’ll probably be dangerous when the skirt flares out while they’re dancing, but the way it twirls around her, like the waves of the ocean itself, makes her feel like a kid watching one of those old Disney princess movies. The off-shoulder sleeves are kind of annoying, though, given that they never stay in place, but at least the straps provide some sense of security. It doesn’t hurt that they also give her the ability to adjust the neckline, allowing what she hopes isn’t too much cleavage to show thanks to the little strapless push-up she’d managed to find at Target.

Not that she’s worried about cleavage. She and Ben are just friends, she doesn’t need to do anything to draw his attention, but she won’t deny that the look on his face when he saw her in the last dress had done _wonders_ for her ego. That, and, well, she can’t stop thinking about the flirty little comment he’d texted her last week.

At the very least, Ben thinks she’s attractive. To be fair to him, she’s had many a thought about pinning him to walls and riding him senseless--mostly when they’d first met--but whatever he thinks about her legs, they have both agreed they’re just good friends. Besides, she doesn’t believe in love. If she ever caved to any thoughts about him, it would be because of some sort of infatuation; not love.

Before she can think any harder on it, her phone lights up with another text.

Ben  
  
You ready?  
  
As I’ll ever be.  
  
You said this one would be more casual, right?  
  
Yes. Why, did you buy a ballgown or something?  
  
No LMAO I was just making sure.  
  
I didn’t want to show up in this dress and turn out to be underdressed.  
  
I’m sure you’d look good in anything you put on.  
  
You’re a flirt, but thank you.  
  
I aim to please. I’ll see you in fifteen?  
  
Of course!  
  


She sighs as she sets her phone down, her entire body relaxing as she leans back in her bed, crossing one foot over the other. This time, she’s gotten smarter about her shoe selection; she’s got on a pair of silver ballet flats, so if they end up dancing as hard as they did at the first wedding, she’ll hurt less.

Now she just has to find a way to spend the next fifteen minutes. Briefly, she debates putting on an episode of something on Netflix, but she knows there’s no chance in hell her attention span will function. Hell, even on a normal day she can’t focus much on TV. It’s usually just something she puts on in the background of whatever work she’s doing, but maybe it’ll take her mind off of him and the second wedding they’re about to attend.

Maybe it’ll at least get her to stop wondering why she thinks about him so much and how normal that is.

*

Fifteen minutes later, she’s waiting for him outside her apartment building, leaning against the wall of the building with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face as his car pulls up, and the window rolls down. She grins as she walks up to it, pulling open the door and bending down to eye level. “What do you think?”

“You look beautiful,” he tells her, and she forces herself not to let it get to her head as she s in beside him, and pulls the door shut.

“Not so bad yourself.” Tonight, he’s wearing another simple tux, but this one has no bowtie. He’s actually left the top two buttons undone, the sliver of pale skin exposed on his chest causing her heart to skip a beat as she looks him up and down. Luckily by this point, he’s started driving again and doesn’t notice, leaving her free to check him out as she pleases. “So, who are we torturing tonight?”

“Snap Wexley and Kaydel Konnix. They met in Atlanta a few years back at DragonCon, they’re cosplayers. Professional cosplayers. They have fan pages and everything,” he says, then he reaches down in the space between them, pulling what appears to be the wedding invite out of a cupholder. “Now they live on the coast and they rescue sea turtles.”

Rey takes the paper from his hand, inspecting the invitation and the couple pictured on the top half. Today’s couple is a pretty blonde and a brunette guy with the biggest, brightest smile she’s seen. They’re looking at each other in the pictures, smiles wide with their hands in the focus of the shot. Specifically, Kaydel’s hand is the focus, the massive diamond on her finger shining in the sunlight. Like Finn and Poe, they’ve taken their engagement photos on the beach. Well, actually she can’t remember where they took their pictures, but their wedding was on a beach, so it’s the same in her mind. “Cute.”

“Yeah, they’re probably the nicest people I’ve worked with in a while. It helps that neither of them turned into a bride or groomzilla this whole time.”

Humming her acknowledgment, she leans against the window, watching the highway. “They seem nice.”

He nods. “They are. No groomzilla this time.”

Both of them chuckle, then she looks back at him, her gaze lingering on the dimples created by his smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you, too.” Then as they come up to a red light, he drops a hand from the steering wheel, his body tilting slightly toward hers. “I’ve been… I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Weirdly enough, I have, too.” Before he can give her a witty reply about how he was right, though, she holds up a finger. “Don’t let it get to your head, I just like drinking with you.”

Smirking to himself, Ben turns his eyes back on the road. “Lucky for you, there’ll be plenty of booze at this wedding.”

Oh, she needs that. It’s been a long week since she’d last seen him. Sure, the case they’ve been working on has somehow managed to be just as laid-back as Amilyn promised, but work is work and it’s always tiring. She also isn’t lying; she does like drinking with him. “I need it.”

“Why? Was the week rough?” he asks, his voice so soft and full of concern it makes her heart skip a beat. “I thought your case was easy.”

“It was, and is, but you know, it’s still kind of difficult. There’s also other cases we’re working on, ones on the side, so it’s--”

“A lot of work?”

The corners of her mouth twitch again. “Yeah, exactly.”

“I get that. I’ve told you how much shit goes into planning a wedding, haven’t I?” He shrugs, then turns them onto a street that runs parallel to the river, the water shining in the dying sunlight as she wiggles her fingers in the rays. “That’s beautiful.”

Humming her agreement, she shifts, propping her elbow up on the edge of the window so she can rest her head against her hand. “So what made you decide to get into wedding planning?”

His features soften, his eyes focused ahead but also lost in the distance, as if he’s thinking on a memory. “Dick professor in college.”

“What?”

“I was studying archaeology, but this one professor I had… he used to ride my ass like it was his fucking job. Used to target me personally. He claimed it was all to make me a better student, but…” He shakes his head. “In the end I couldn’t take it. I switched my major completely so I was on the other side of campus and was able to avoid him. Went into hospitality management just cause it was the first thing I could find, then I realized what I could do with it.” Swallowing nervously, he runs a hand through his hair. “It’s usually a delightful thing, planning weddings, being a part of the best day of people’s lives… I used to be such a pessimist, but I don’t know, it’s given me a different perspective of life. Does wonders for my mental health, too.”

“Seems like it. You’re probably the happiest person I know,” she admits, causing him to chuckle softly. “I know it wouldn’t seem like it, but I can kind of relate in a weird way. It makes me feel better to try and bring people a sense of closure, you know?”

“How?”

“It’s the death of a relationship, and what do we all search for when something dies?” She gestures forth. “Closure. A way to end things that satisfies us all, and like you, I find it hard when something goes wrong, but most of the time I think I help people through one of the most painful things they can go through in life.”

Another smile parts Ben’s lips. “I can understand that. We’re still different as night and day, you and me.”

“Yeah, we are, but I think we’re also two peas in a pod.”

“That’s cute,” he replies, then he turns onto the next street. “We’re almost there.”

“I deeply look forward to seeing you lose our bet tonight.”

“You still think they’re definitely headed for divorce? No matter what they do?”

She nods. “It’s destiny.”

“I still think you’re wrong.”

“So are you.”

He says nothing as he pulls into the parking lot, but there’s still a smirk parting his lips that has her eyes rolling. There’s no way in hell he’s winning this bet. She’s going to beat him, she’s got to.

*

This time, the ceremony is outside. It’s in a little garden with pale blue flowers and sea shells scattered throughout, and soft coral-pink ribbons tied to the back of old, off-white antique chairs. At least, she thinks they’re antique. They look old and the way they creak when she and Ben sit down in them, causing them both to giggle as they watch the rest of the guests start filling in.

Everyone else is in similar blues to Rey or in pinks and oranges, like the hues of a sunset. The dress code of this wedding almost seems to match the aesthetic of the last one, a thought which makes her smile as she rests her hands in her lap, and looks ahead at the altar.

The arch under which Kaydel and Snap are to be married is also decorated in those pretty blue flowers, lining a wooden structure that looks like something out of a Shakespearean play. _Ben did that_ , she thinks, her mind supplying her a series of delightful pictures of Ben designing everything, his brow furrowed as he works to weave the flower garland through the criss-cross pattern of the arch. A part of her wants to know what he looks like when he’s working; the intricacies of how all of these weddings come together.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, causing her to turn her head in his direction.

“Just trying to picture you doing all of this, putting it together, making sure it all fits…” Feeling her cheeks grow hot, she looks down. “It’s nice.”

Satisfaction shows itself on his face, his body relaxing against the chair, then he rests an arm against her chair, his fingers gently brushing her arm. “So you like weddings, just not the concept of marriage, then.”

Not a question, an observation. “Maybe so. I enjoy a good party and the scenery is lovely. Like I said last week. It’s all good fun, but it doesn’t last.”

That bastard smirk appears again. “You’re so losing this bet.”

“I’m so not,” she whispers, then he opens his mouth to argue, but before he can get a word out, music begins playing, and they know he’s run out of time. They glance at each other one last time, then together they rise, standing with the rest of the audience as the wedding party begins making their way down the aisle, and the ceremony begins.

This time, the bridesmaids are wearing gowns the color of pale coral, seeming a touch too close to white for what she’d imagine most weddings would want, but it works. They’re also all wearing different clothing, as if they were simply instructed to find whatever was in their closet that matched the color scheme. That’s a cool idea, one her brain decides is going to be worth remembering later. Not that she’ll ever need it but if Ben ever needs suggestions in the future maybe.

Then the bride and groom walk down the aisle together. They look even more lovely than they do in their engagement photos from the invite. Snap, like Finn and Poe, is in a simple tux--god, she wishes men’s fashion could do something more notable than just a tux--but his bride… Kaydel is a fucking vision.

The dress is relatively simple. It’s form-fitting until it reaches her calves, flaring ever so slightly around her feet in a lace halo. The entire thing is lace, actually, all the way up to the plunging neckline which exposes her tanned skin. She’s glowing, positively radiant, and the smile on her face can probably outshine the sun.

By the time they reach the altar, she can feel Ben staring at her, likely gauging her reaction to it all. She tries to school her expression into something more neutral, but the tiniest giggle she’s ever heard still fills her ears a moment later. He knows she’s affected, the asshole, and he’s laughing at her. All this is doing is making him more confident that he’s going to win, and there isn’t much she can do to prove him wrong that wouldn’t make her an asshole, unfortunately.

She’ll give him this, there’s something beautiful about a wedding ceremony. They really do look like they’re in love as they give each other their vows--or at least, they look like the picture of what love probably should be. It’s a hopeful thing, watching these two people vow themselves to one another forever, even if she knows it can never last.

In her time as an attorney so far, she’s seen people who’ve been together for as long as thirty fucking years come through and say they’re done. Just because they look like this now, doesn’t mean they will when they’re old and gray.

But it’s nice. Their kiss is short and sweet. They waste no time, and it’s certainly not all business, but it doesn’t draw itself out. At the end, they turn to their audience, their fists raised in the air as they make their way back down the aisle, and the entire wedding party--guests and all--begins making their way into the little house they’ve chosen for a venue.

“So what’d you think of this one?” Ben asks as they wait for their turn to head down the aisle. “Is it better or worse than the last one so far?”

“It’s barely started. The reception’s the best part anyway, everyone knows that.”

He hums his agreement, then he holds out his arm, and she rolls her eyes as she takes hold of his elbow, and together, they begin to walk. “I could see you were enjoying yourself back there.”

Fighting back the urge to bite her lip, she meets his eyes, watching the colors dance in them for a couple of seconds. In the light of the setting sun, she can see the gold in his irises lit up in an array of colors. They look almost hazel like hers sometimes, especially now, and she may not believe in love but she’s definitely a little bit in love with his eyes. “I think it’s nice. The colors, the setting, the ambiance; I’ve told you that before.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. We’re only on wedding number two and you already seem to be softening.”

“Ben, I only seem to be softening because I’m actually enjoying my time with you and I don’t want to be a dick.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her, his head tilting down toward hers. “Yeah, right.” Then he pulls back as they ascend the steps into the house. “You’re going soft, my friend.”

“I am _not_.”

“Yes, you are. You think I didn’t notice you’re wearing flats this time? Something easier to dance in?”

“Well, it’s no secret that I like dancing with you, Ben, I just--”

His head shakes. “Admit it. You’re going soft.”

“No, no--” She holds up a finger, unsure of whether or not to press it against his lips like she kind of wants to. Maybe when they’re actually drunk, she’ll do it. Then and no sooner. At least if they’re drunk she’ll have an excuse. “I’m not going soft. You just want me to so badly you’re…” Fuck, how was she going to end that sentence again? “Manifesting it or something.”

A snort leaves him. “Manifesting?”

“I couldn’t think of another word.” Another shrug. “You have any better ideas?”

This just causes him to chuckle, his chest shaking with the effort as he pushes open the door, then places his palm against it to hold it open for her. “We haven’t even touched a drop of alcohol and you’re already missing your words.”

Her eyes roll again as they walk in, the door falling shut behind them while they take stock of the venue. There’s a dance floor in the main room, a dee-jay already hard at work playing the week’s top forty hits while the rest of the guests have started lining up at the bar. She and Ben both know they’ll be a part of that second group, and without having to make so much as a sliver of eye contact, they start walking that way. “We’re about to change that.”

“You missing your words?”

“No. How much alcohol we’ve had,” she says, both of their faces lighting up with grins as they make their way toward the bar, and the second wedding properly kicks off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rey's dress](https://us.shein.com/Cold-Shoulder-Eyelet-Embroidered-Ruffle-Dress-p-1131753-cat-1727.html?url_from=adplaswdress00200417590S)
> 
> [Kaydel's dress](https://www.tbdress.com/product/Court-Trumpet-Mermaid-Spaghetti-Straps-Floor-Length-Hall-Wedding-Dress-13725758.html?currency=USD#7197855)


	7. Their Song

The party is in full swing by the time they throw back their first shot of Tito's vodka. Everyone is dancing, the bride and groom swirling around at the center of it all moving as if no one’s watching. Rey watches for about half a second, but then she looks back at Ben, and he’s holding out another shot glass full of clear liquid and though she gives him a look that suggests this is a _terrible_ idea, she takes that shot and doesn’t think twice.

Once they’re two shots in, she whoops with laughter, feeling a buzz in her system already. Her poor liver is going to hate her, but she isn’t too concerned with her internal organs. All she can think about is the shit-eating grin on her friend’s face as he holds up two fingers to the bartender and switches them to champagne. They’re gonna want to take it easy for a minute if they don’t want their fun to end early.

“I can’t believe you just convinced me to do two shots of vodka at eight o’clock,” she grumbles, though it’s more of a shout considering how loud the music is. “You’re a menace to society, Ben Solo.”

He throws his head back laughing as he leans against the bar, and they both watch the guests dance from their perch on the party’s edge. “Oh, but you loved it, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but the point of all this isn’t to convince me that weddings are fun, I fully believe they are.” She sips her drink, then she lets it rest down by the center of her abdomen. “The point is to make me believe love isn’t just folly.”

Eyes rolling back in his head, Ben runs his finger along the rim of the champagne glass. “Yes, but fun is very important Rey. Don’t you like fun?”

The corners of her mouth tug apart. “I love it.”

“What do you usually do for fun, Rey?”

“I don’t know, I like going to the beach, taking long walks—”

He holds up a hand, shaking his head as he takes another sip from his glass. “That’s everyone’s answer. What’s yours?”

Shit, she’s never really thought about that. Sometimes she watches Youtube videos, Netflix is pretty fun, too, but those are also everyone else’s answers. What Ben wants to know is what she specifically does for fun, which sort of thing makes her happy that maybe differentiates from those answers. Obviously there’s nothing wrong with those answers, but what _else_ does she do that he’s maybe not expecting?

“I sing when I do the dishes, or just around the apartment when I think my neighbors are gone. Walls aren’t exactly soundproof.” That’s not exactly unique either, but it works. “Sometimes Rose and I do karaoke after a rough case instead of getting drunk.”

He gives a tiny sound of acknowledgment, pitching upward toward the end as if it’s a question. “I bet you’re great.”

 _Oh,_ he has no idea, does he? “The people at Teedo’s would disagree with you. Every time Rose and I duet _Since You Been Gone_ I think people want to murder us.”

Laughter, deep and rumbling in his chest—and hers as a result—fills the room, almost drowning out the thudding bass of the song that’s causing everyone on the dance floor to act like they have no shame. “That…” he says eventually, more giggles falling from his lips as he struggles to get the words out. “Is absolutely fantastic.”

There’s not much holding her back from smacking him on the chest—or maybe the face if she’s feeling like it—aside from the fact that the room is crowded as hell and they’re both holding still mostly full glasses of champagne. She should probably work to change that. Sipping from her glass, Rey shakes her head at him, then she swats gently at her shoulder. The swat has none of the power nor impact that she wants it to, but the point seems to come across. “Dickhead.”

“Ow.”

“Oh, that didn’t hurt, you big baby.”

Another wide grin parts his lips then he sips from his glass, inspecting the contents once he’s done. “You have more strength than you realize…”

Leaning against the bar, Rey sets her glass down. “What’s on your mind?”

“I think we should get out there. Maybe I can ask the Dee-jay to play Since You Been Gone.”

“Okay, first of all, if you do that I will kill you violently, slowly, and painfully—” She swats his arm again as he begins his helpless giggling. “Second, that is my song with Rose. We need our own song.”

He rests his elbow on the bar, leaning against it as he sets his glass down, too. “What’s our song then?”

Glancing over to the speaker, she listens for a couple of seconds to the sound of _Uptown Funk_. What will be their song? It’s a big thing for a friendship, she thinks, having a song that makes her and the other person go absolutely feral. Honestly, the biggest shock for her so far is that he wants to have a song with her, that he thinks they’re already bound enough to have something like this, and it’s both refreshing and kind of terrifying, but she loves it.

Their song should be something fast and epic, loud and ridiculous like they are—or how they get when they’re drunk—and though she’s already starting to feel rather buzzed, she comes up with a solution almost immediately. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” she tells him. “We’re going to finish these glasses, drink two more shots, and then we’re going to go out onto the dance floor and whatever song happens to be playing, that’s going to be our song.”

Ben seems to think about it for a moment, then he looks down at his glass, his stupidly large fingers wrapping around the stem of it as he lifts it from the bar. “I think that’s a great idea. As long as we don’t get something stupid like _Get Low_.”

“Who the fuck would play _Get Low_ at a wedding?”

“You’d be surprised it’s kind of popular.”

“Hmm, I suppose you’d know,” she replies, then she shrugs, lifting her glass. “But if it happens, then… to the window, to the wall, Ben. The fates will have decided for us.”

Groaning, he clinks his glass against hers. “Then it’s perfect.”

“Let’s drink.” Then she brings the glass to her lips, the two of them locking eyes as they move together, not even blinking as they down the remainder of their champagne. After a few seconds she releases it with a hiss, setting the empty glass down firmly as he does the same with his, then she turns to the bartender. “Can we get two more please?”

The man behind the counter gives her a nod, then she turns back to her friend, quirking both eyebrows at him as they anticipate the arrival of the poison they know is about to bite them in the ass. “We’re going to die.”

“It’s only four shots, Ben, what’s the worst that can happen?”

*

She should know by now that asking “what’s the worst thing that can happen,” is a loaded question. Once their shots are downed, she’s dragging Ben out onto the dance floor, both of them giggling as they’re running, the guitar of the last song fading out more and more with each passing second, fading out more into…

“And now it’s time for the bride and groom to have their first dance,” the Dee-Jay announces over a microphone.

 _Fuck_. So their song is about to be something slow and sappy. Great, just great. Also very ironic given the reason why they’re here together, but fate seems to have determined they’ll have to sing about love together at some point.

“Is it too late for me to take back the idea of the first song we hear becoming our song?” she mutters, fighting off the slur in her voice. “I have regrets.”

There’s a red flush to his cheeks as he lights up again, patting her gently on the shoulder as the dance floor parts, and Snap and Kaydel make their way to the center of it to the sound of thunderous applause. “The fates have spoken, Rey, this is our song now.”

“It hasn’t even started playing. What if it sucks?”

In front of them, Snap takes Kaydel’s hand, pulling her into a slow dance position, and the room grows quiet. “I guess we’re about to find out,” Ben whispers, then the music starts up, and Rey’s heart stops.

It’s a song she’s heard a thousand times on the radio. Just _I Won’t Give Up_ by Jason Mraz, but it’s still a bit much for just a friendship song. Sure, the Kelly Clarkson song that she and Rose always sing is about a romantic relationship, but it’s about the end of one. This one is… This one wants it to go on and on forever, the way the man beside her always hopes it will go. It’s certainly not going to help her case, but she knows people break promises all the time, she sees it every day.

She looks over to him as the song plays, watching his eyes soften as he watches Kaydel and Snap dance. This is the product of his hard work. He’s put this show together, and watching them have their big moment is probably so rewarding for him, and in that regard at least, she’s happy for him. He may not win their bet, but he’s won this moment, he’s won many others like it whether they last or not.

The happiness in his eyes is so bright and vivid, she doesn’t want to think about ruining it. Instead, she just rests a hand on his shoulder, feeling his eyes fall on her as she focuses her gaze on the couple dancing ahead of them.

After a couple of seconds, she hears him give a contented hum, then they’re both watching the slow dance, taking in the sight of the newlyweds swaying around one another with smiles big and broad on their faces. She can tell they’re talking, too, but she has no idea what they’re saying. Whatever it is, they keep making each other laugh, their foreheads resting together in between it all as their friends and family watch fondly.

It’s so sweet, so sickeningly sweet that she almost thinks for a second that it could be possible to still feel this way about someone even after seventy years pass. She vaguely remembers the clients she has waiting for her in the office, the case files she still has yet to go through in full, but right now… Perhaps there’s something to be said about living in the moment. Things may go sour, but right now everything is perfect, life feels hued in the golden light of sunshine, and the future doesn’t matter.

Neither does the past.

When the dance ends, she removes her hand from Ben’s shoulder, swaying slightly as she does so, but he’s quick to catch her arm, wrapping his around hers with a wink. “Careful, Rey.”

“Fuck off,” she slurs, then before she can say anything else, the Dee-Jay announces they’re getting back on schedule. Finally, something they can dance to will come on and she can stop having thoughts that make her question whether or not she’ll win this bet. “Let’s just dance.”

He snorts his amusement, then he’s being dragged out onto the dance floor again just as _Get Low_ starts playing. A look of shock crosses her features, then he shrugs, grinning ear to ear as he tells her, “I told you so.”

“Fuck—”

“Fuck off, I know,” he replies, slurring his words slightly. “Let’s dance.”

She nods. “Let’s.” Then they’re screaming the words of the song with the rest of the crowd, their stupid, drunken selves slowly becoming lost to the haze of fun and joy around them as the night winds on, and their sobriety begins to die completely.

*

By the time they leave the wedding, she’s the drunkest she’s been since college. Her words are slurred beyond repair, her steps wavering, and even Ben looks like he’s going to keel over onto the first sofa he sees. She’s honestly just impressed that he’s still standing. He certainly doesn’t look like he will be for much longer.

But god, wasn’t it fun? She’d danced and drank the night away, Ben briefly broke their dancing to introduce her to the bride and groom, she got to bond with them a little bit, learned they were two of the nicest people alive—Kaydel had even offered her friendship within minutes of meeting—and eventually she’d even gotten to try and catch the bouquet. She hadn’t caught it, but the thrill was exciting.

Now she’s stumbling out of the old River Street house with an arm slung around Ben’s shoulders, both of them loudly singing along to the song the Dee-Jay is playing—this time _I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)_ —as they make their way out the door and down the steps, heading into the parking lot even though they both know they’re in no condition to drive.

“Fuuuuuck, I shouldn’t have drunk so muuch. I ha-have to beee back here for clean up in the mooorning,” Ben mutters, looking mournfully back at the house.

She hums her assent as she leans against him, then pulls her phone out of her bra. “The Uber’s going toooo be here in five m-mminutes, you’ll be fine, Count Boooozey von Drunkaton.”

Scoffing, he points a finger to the center of her chest just beneath her collarbone. “You arrre one to talk, my lady.”

“I am soooo not your laaady,” she retorts, then together, they sit down on the curb outside of the parking lot, listening to the sound of the guests around them as they begin to trickle out of the wedding. Some of them are still in there partying hard, but most people have started to make a move toward escaping. “But maybe you could be a nice trophy husband.”

A raspberry leaves his lips, quickly devolving into debilitating laughter as he leans against her, his body shaking as his head rests against her shoulder, and her eyes roll as she brings her hand up to pat his head. “Oh, thank you, Rey, that’s very thoughtful of you.”

“I aim to please,” she tells him, then she sobers slightly. “I had a gooood time tonight, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, this was fun.”

“But you’re still not convinced.”

“Nooo. Remember, I’ve seen people come in after thirty years, Ben. Sometimes more than that. It’s not enough to just look happy on your wedding day.” His head lifts from her shoulder. Their eyes meeting as he shakes his head, watching her with disbelief. “Sorry.”

Another hum. “Are you?” he asks softly, and she notices then that he’s close, very close. She can see every feature of his face from here in perfect detail even though it’s kind of dark. All of the moles speckled across his face are prominent up close, but she finds them oddly endearing, they add to his charm and part of why she thinks she likes him so much. But they aren’t what’s making her shockingly aware of their proximity to one another. No, that can be blamed on the cherry red lips he has, which are now gently parted as he breathes in and out, drawing her attention down where it shouldn’t be. “Are you sorry?”

“I feel bad that I don’t agree with you,” she admits. “That I can’t agree with you. It’s just not going to happen. It’s not plausible.”

Tsking quietly, he shifts a little closer. “Aaand what are we going to do about that?”

Her eyes begin to drift shut, she pretends it’s because the alcohol is making her sleepy. “I don’t knoooow.”

“I’d like to find out.”

Giggling softly, she leans against him a little more. “What are we even talking about?”

One of his hands comes up to rest on her back, tugging her a little closer, and through the haze of the liquor, she is pliant in his hands, bendable like putty, but he is equally so in hers. She pulls at his free hand, which he gives her willingly, allowing her to just fiddle with her fingers as their heads rest together. “I don’t remember,” he replies, and now she really can’t recall what they were talking about, why they are now so close to one another, all she knows is that this embrace, toying with his fingers, just sitting with him on the curbside, feels nice.

It’s actually the nicest she’s felt in a while.

Of course, the peaceful illusion must come to an end, and it does in the form of a pair of bright LED headlights shining into their eyes, causing them both to blink as they pull apart, shielding their faces with their palms. “I think that’s our Uber,” she says, pointing to the large, black SUV which seems to be staring them down.

“I think you may be right.” Then he stands, turning around quickly to help her unsteadily to her feet. Together, they begin to walk up to the car, but when they get within a few feet of it, he pauses, his face going slightly pale as he realizes something. “Oh no.”

“What? What is it?” Her eyes go wide. “Did you put in the wrong address?”

“No.” He shakes his head, his face growing a little paler. “I… I fucking forgot to mention there were multiple addresses. I only gave him mine.”

 _Ah_ shit. That is a problem. “Well, we could always tell him.”

“We could.”

“But I’m also bone-tired so if you have a futon and don’t mind me crashing—”

He nods almost a little too eagerly. “Right, yeah, I have a futon. It’s comfortable. You can crash,” he says, his voice suddenly hurried instead of slurred. “Or you can take my bed if you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Reaching forward, he opens the rear door of the car, and gestures for her to get in. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Rolling her eyes, she slips her hand in his, stepping up into the car as he gets in behind her. The driver barely waits for them to buckle their seatbelts before they’re zooming out of the parking lot away from the venue, but she finds that the sudden rush—in spite of the little shocked noise it pulls from Ben—isn’t what makes her heart pound.

No, her heart is pounding because she’s going to his place, and she doesn’t know why, she’s spent the night with friends a thousand times, but something about him is making her heartbeat so loud she can almost hear it. She doesn’t know what that means.

Nor is she going to try and figure it out.


	8. The Hangover Part II

They’re both giggling as the car drives away from the reception. They’re in the backseat, laughing at some joke Rey made about him taking her home, and they’re having the time of their goddamn lives.

She collapses against him, her seatbelt struggling to contain her as she wraps her arms around one of his, holding it close as she nestles into his shoulder. “You’re comfortable,” she whispers, causing him to giggle as his head rests on hers. A blissful sigh parts her lips as a few loose, raven waves fall onto her forehead, Ben’s little rumbles of laughter vibrating softly against her skull.

“You’re warm,” he slurs, then a finger prods her arm, slow and lazy, and he mumbles contentedly. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.”

They both lose it to more laughter at this, happily sinking further into one another as the alcohol swirls in their brains. This is absolute buffoonery, they are acting like drunken teenagers—or worse, college freshmen—and yet she’s having the time of her life. It’s not as if joy is a foreign concept in her life, she experiences it plenty, but not like this.

Never before has she felt so gleeful, as if she were floating, or maybe even flying through the night sky, though that may be the liquor talking more than anything else. She hopes it’s the liquor. There’s something else her mind, the part of it which is still sober, thinks it might be, but she refuses to acknowledge it.

“How much longer till we get to your place?” she whispers, yawning as she nestles further into his body. “I want to sleep.”

“Not far, Rey.” his voice is soft, faint with the sound of oncoming sleep, and he yawns in response. Vaguely, she registers the sound of their Uber driver yawning in sympathy, but she’s still a little too far gone to notice it. “I’m so tired.”

“Me too, I think I might just pass out on the first surface I see when we get there.”

“I might pass out before that.”

More laughter passes from their lips as Rey’s eyes fall closed. At this point, it’s a struggle to keep them open. Between the dancing and the drinking she’s grown rather exhausted, and for all her and Ben’s talk of not making it to the bedroom or the nearest sofa, she knows she’s not even going to make it out of this car.

Falling asleep is easy, almost painfully so. Ben’s shoulder is the most comfortable pillow she’s ever rested on; he’s warm, the fabric of his jacket softens the hard muscle just enough that she’s melting into it, and his presence alone is the most soothing thing she’s experienced in a long time. So she falls asleep, her mind completely at rest even though it definitely shouldn’t be. She’s in a stranger’s car, going to another—kind of—stranger’s house, both of them are drunk, and this is all kinds of unsafe, yet she falls asleep like it’s nothing anyway.

Normally, she’d have all kinds of reservations about this, all the normal ones about the potential dangers of getting into cars with men she hardly knows. This man, though, she knows she’s found something else with him. Right now, she’s pretty sure she’s just found her new best friend, but her drunken mind wanders.

Trust is difficult to find, let alone maintain. Every moment she’s spent with him she’s trusted him, and she remembers something in the vows of both couples’ weddings she’s attended thus far about how much they loved and trusted their partners. Is this why so many people take the risk in holding these weddings? In attempting a marriage? Because they think this is worth it?

Before she can think on it much further, she registers the feeling of her body sinking into a mattress, warm hands caressing her head as they rest it atop a pillow. A soft moan tugs itself from her lips, her eyes fluttering open as her hands grip the blankets below. They’re soft, almost a little silky to the touch, but she’s too busy looking at the shadow of the man standing above her to notice.

There’s Ben again, his hair hanging low in his face as he pulls another blanket on top of her, his movements stunted and awkward from what he’s drunk, but she appreciates the gesture. “Thaank you,” she whispers, weakly grabbing hold of one of his hands as he pulls away. “Is this your bed?”

“Yeah, it’s mine,” he replies with a yawn, then he squeezes her hand. “I-I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

She may be drunker than she’s been in a long time, but that’s the biggest piece of horse shit she’s ever heard. “No.”

“No?”

“Nooo.” Rolling onto her side, she scoots back, patting the mattress beside her with her free hand as she looks up at him expectantly. “This is youuur bed, Benn. I’m not holding it hostage.”

For a moment, he seems to have some sort of clarity, as if he’s been temporarily jolted into sobriety. Worry appears on his face, his eyes going wide as one of his hands runs through his hair, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times like one of those grouper fishes, but then he nods. “Am sleepy…” Eyes sweeping over the newly freed expanse of the mattress, he sighs. “You’re terrible.”

Grinning, she tugs on his hand, pulling him down until he falls like a dead weight on the mattress, both of them grumbling quietly as he adjusts, swinging his legs up onto the bed with them as Rey wraps an arm around his waist. “You’re wonderful.”

Ben snorts as she presses herself against his backside, latching onto him the way she would a giant teddy bear. He’s a lot better at snuggling, though. Unlike a shitty little stuffed animal, he grabbed hold of her hand, clutching it tight against his chest. “So warrrrrrm,” he slurs, his head pressing back against her crown as she mumbles the same thing back to him.

“Goodnight, Ben.” Her voice is a mumble, barely audible to even her ears as she breathes him in, her eyes drifting shut once more. “Love youuu.”

A small little laugh shakes them both as he tangles one of his legs between hers. “Mmmm, so you don’t believe love is dead then?”

“Noooo. Diffferent kind of lovve.”

He gives her a tiny little hum, his breaths already starting to even out. The hum is so quiet she almost doesn’t hear it, but she hears the meaning of it loud and clear. _Yeah, right_. He doesn’t believe her, not for a second, and if she’s being honest…

She’s not entirely sure she believes it either.

*

When Rey wakes, her hangover rivals the one she’d had the morning of the first wedding, and that one had been pretty fucking bad. This one just renders her absolutely useless, and she hasn’t even opened her eyes yet. Her head is pounding, her mouth is dry, and a part of her wants to lean over the nearest edge and dry heave until something comes up, but there’s a mass in the way.

Vaguely, she remembers pulling Ben down into bed with her, and that memory is certainly no dream, judging by the way her arms are still wrapped tightly around him. The shade and protection he provides from the sun shining outside are certainly much appreciated.

He’s also oddly the perfect size to cuddle. She hadn’t thought he would be—not that she put much thought into this idea at all, mind—with how broad he is, but he’s wonderful. They don’t quite fit, they’re thoroughly mismatched, actually, and they’re still comfortable as they are.

Maybe his silk soft sheets help.

Groaning softly, her arms tighten around him, eliciting a groan from his lips in return as his body flexes into consciousness. The hand that’s still holding hers squeezes tightly, then he freezes, his entire body going stiff as he seems to realize something. “Oh-oh god, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, then it becomes clear to her why he froze as he begins to untangle himself from her arms.

“ _No_.” It comes out like a growl, fierce and mean; almost startling even her as she tightens her grip around him. “Sorry, but if you move right now, I will go blind.”

“Oh, are—are you sure?” _Fuck_ , how did his voice get deeper? Is it sleep deprivation or is it because of alcohol consumption? Probably some beautiful combination of both. It’s admittedly kind of sexy, especially paired with the little confused, innocent lilt he’s got. “I can move—”

Tightening her grip on his hand again, she shakes her head. “No, I’m serious, you’re the only thing between me and the sun, and if I see any light right now, I will throw up.” There’s a raspiness to her voice that leaves even her wincing, she has no doubt he can hear it, too. “Please just… just stay.”

“And you’re fine with this? Holding me close?”

“Ben, I promise you, I’m fine with this, please stay,” she begs again, tugging on his shirt—god, he’s still in his tux—as she buries her face further in the back of the neck. “I just need a minute.”

After a couple more seconds, he nods. “Oh, okay.” A small laugh. “Sorry, I was just nervous, I—I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

Preposterous. What has he done wrong? She’s the one who pulled him in here, she’s the one holding onto him. There isn’t a boundary for him to have crossed, not yet. If there is one, she’s not sure where it is. Maybe if he’d tried to kiss her, maybe if one of them had wound up groping the other in the night, but neither of those things has happened. “Ben, you’re fine. Have _I_ overstepped anything, though?”

His answer leaves him in a rush, “No! No.” Then his thumb brushes over the back of hers, and she can feel her heart rate begin to calm already. “Oh god no, I just wanted to make sure you were fine.”

“And I wanted to make sure _you_ were fine.”

More giggles leave them both, then he pats her hand gently. “How are you feeling otherwise? Did you have a good time last night?”

Oh, oh yes she did. Every minute of the night before is somehow preserved in her memory, or at least, the important ones are. There was dancing and laughing and pure, unfiltered joy on top of overwhelming displays of love and affection. She’d seen people whirling about as though no one was watching them. Others knew they were being watched and danced like fools anyway, but they all had one thing in common.

They all drank themselves stupid.

She and Ben were probably the worst of them all, given how they had to cling to one another just to stand throughout the night. They’re still clinging to one another, in fact, as their heads pound and their bodies ache, but now they have a pinch more clarity. “I loved it, thank you.”

“Good.”

“How about you? How’s your hangover?” She nudges the back of his neck with her nose. “You drank more than I did.”

A low, rumbling chuckle shakes the mattress. “Ah, but I don’t have a shit alcohol tolerance.”

“I don’t either!”

“It’s shit compared to mine.”

 _You’re trying to get slapped, aren’t you, Solo?_ she thinks, smirking against the back of his neck as she shakes her head. “Okay, so you’re telling me you’re not even slightly hungover?”

“Well, I never said that, but my eyes are open. My head hurts and my stomach aches, but other than that, I think I’m okay.”

She’s going to kill him. She’d also like a nickel for every time she thinks she’d like to kill him. Ben’s now one of her best friends, she loves him, but by god is she also going to murder him one day. “Lucky you.”

“I could make you some food if you want.” His head turns then, and she risks blinking open her eyes just a little as he turns over in her arms, just rolling over onto his back so that he can look at her, and she finds her breath catching as she takes him in.

He’s saying something to her, but what it is, she’s not sure. All she can think about is how tousled the waves of his hair have become from sleep, how exhausted he looks beneath the strands that have fallen into his eyes. Her thoughts travel back to the way they’d been the night they’d first met, when she was just thinking of him as nothing more than her next one-night-stand. Was this what he would’ve looked like if they’d gone down a different path?

No, it isn’t. If they’d simply reduced their relationship to a casual hookup, they wouldn’t be here, staring at one another as if the other person brought them peace. Things would be awkward, they would be naked, and she’d never speak to him again.

Looking at him now, she’s never been more glad she didn’t sleep with someone in her life. Ben’s still gorgeous in her eyes, still one of the most remarkably handsome men she’s ever met, but she loves what she has with him now more than anything else that could’ve possibly happened.

Now she has a best friend who lets her snuggle him when she’s drunk and offers to make her food in the morning after they go on a bender—or rather, attend a very party-like wedding—and her brain is still kind of confused about him, but he’s wonderful. “What were you saying?” she asks, barely registering that he’s just finished speaking.

“Oh, I was saying I could make us breakfast before you call an Uber home. Or we could go to a Waffle House or something. You know, it’s the ultimate hangover cure.”

“Mmm, you, me, an all-star special? Sounds great.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” she replies, then she rolls onto her back, wincing at the pain that stings in her gut from the movement. “I don’t know, I feel almost too shitty to move.”

Ben nudges her shoulder sympathetically. “Hey, I’ll go get something to go. There’s a Waffle House right across the street. If you want me to go, say the word and I’m there.”

“You don’t have to, just give me five more minutes, then I’ll be up and at it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he replies, then he sits up, causing her to wince as the last of her sun shield disappears with the rising of his shadow. “Do you want an Ibuprofen or something? I was about to go get one for myself anyway, so I figured—”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

It really does. Everything he proposes sounds great, and she’s starting to think that she can’t wait until these stupid weddings are over so they can just exist with one another. So they can bond properly and just build the friendship—the _relationship_ between them. The thought puts a smile on her face, one he returns as he rolls out of the bed, and heads into the living area.

That smile lingers long after he disappears, but she’s too far lost in thought to notice. It’s as if she’s daydreaming for the first time in a long time, losing herself to the bliss of her own mind.

Before she can think too much, though, she can hear her phone going off. It’s only the ping of a text message, but still, she’s brought back to reality. She’s also thoroughly impressed that her phone managed to stay in her bra for once. Normally after this kind of thing, it would’ve fallen out somewhere, but she pulls the phone out, relieved to find it’s just a text from Rose.

 _That_ brings her back to reality.

Rose 🌹  
  
Hey... how was last night 😏👀  
  
Did y'all bone?  
  
ROSEy  
  
WHaaat? 👀  
  
It's not like that. I've told you a thousand times, babe.  
  
Get your mind out of the gutter  
  
MMhmm, sure Jan. But what about last night, though?  
  
What about it?  
  
What happened?  
  
Oh god... where do I begin?  
  
I don't think I've been that drunk since college.  
  
Holy shit?  
  
Yeah. Miserable.  
  
BUt oh, fuck??????????? It was worth it. We had a little bit too much to drink and it was the most fun I’ve had in my life.  
  
We also have a "song" now..  
  
What's your song?  
  
Oh god. So… listen we were getting drunk and we agreed that the next song that came on would be ours?  
  
Uh huh..  
  
AND????????  
  
… It was the bride and groom’s first dance. IT WAS FUCKING I WON’T GIVE UP.   
  
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH????????  
  
YOU LAUGH BUT??? My song with this guy I still barely know is a fucking LOVE SONG.  
  
Rose. I AM THE LEAST ROMANTIC PERSON ALIVE  
  
We know this and we love you. And this is also hysTERICAL HOLY SHIT  
  
I am SUFFERING ROSE. I AM SUFFERINGGGGGGGGGGGG  
  
FUCking hell oh my god. So how hungover are you? Should I tell Amilyn you're going to be late?  
  
Yes, please. Tell her... uh... anything but the truth. Nothing about the bender.  
  
I know nothing about your bender. I'll make up something. I've got your back.  
  
I love you so much  
  
I know 😘  
  


Setting her phone down, Rey pushes herself up, then she presses her palm into her forehead, praying that somehow the pressure will ease the ache inside her head. “Fuck,” she whispers, praying for the sweet embrace of death to just take her already as Ben’s bedroom door opens again, more light resting upon the black, silk sheets—and also blinding her more than she’s already been blinded.

“Ibuprofen for you,” he says, sounding a touch too cheerful for someone with a hangover as he holds out the hand with a plastic cup. Water sloshes quietly as she takes it from him, then holds out her other palm for him to drop the pill into.

“Thank you.” She moans as she swallows the pill, the water soothing to the burn in the back of her throat. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

“The waffle’s going to feel even better,” he says, holding out his hand for hers.

Setting the glass down, she takes it, letting him pull her to her feet. Once she’s standing, she looks down at the rest of her body, inspecting how frumpled she’s become in the night. She certainly looks like she had a one-night-stand last night, but she can’t do anything about that now. There’s a Waffle House waffle waiting for her, and of all the places that will never judge her or comment on how she looks, that’s at the top of the list. “I’m sure it will.”

Ben just grins at her, then she’s being tugged out of his apartment, and onto the streets of Savannah, her hangover fading more and more by the minute in a way she bets has very little to do with the Ibuprofen or the thought of a soon to be eaten waffle.


	9. Waffle House, Hangover Cure Extraordinaire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a minute y'all I was busy this week but it's back now <3

As usual, Ben is right. Waffle House is the perfect cure for a hangover. The minute she walks in she can smell the greasiness. It’s kind of gross, but it’s exactly what she needs. 

The low crowds certainly help, too. There are maybe five or six other people here, most of the usual patrons likely already at work, and she finds herself breathing easier as a result. Ben leads them to a booth in the back corner; it’s usually the kind where teenagers go to make out, but it’s also the space with the lowest lighting, and with how badly their heads both ache--they need it. 

They sit on opposite sides, a waitress handing them a menu almost the second they sit down. Both of them order coffee, the orders passing from their lips in perfect unison, causing both them and their waitress to giggle as she walks away. 

Rey sighs in the aftermath, crossing her arms over one another on the table before propping her chin upon them. “You’re hurting more than you let on.”

“I’m fine,” he assures her, then he reaches for the menu that’s been placed by their window, sandwiched between advertisements and a napkin dispenser. The laminated sheet flops slightly as he pulls it out, then lays it flat on the table in front of her. “What do you think you’ll get?”

Quirking an eyebrow at him, she pushes the menu away. “Do you seriously think I need a menu at a Waffle House?” 

“Well, that depends on how long you’ve been living in the south.” He sits back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can’t have been long, you still sound rather English to me.”

“And you don’t sound like you’re from around here, either.”

The corners of his mouth tug upward. “Touche.”

“So where are you from, Solo?” she asks, then as the waitress places their coffees on the table, she reaches for one of the cream packets that’s been set aside by the napkins, maintaining eye contact with him all the while. “My guess… Somewhere in the midwest. Or the west coast, but you’re on the wrong side of the country from where you started.”

Reaching for three--she almost can’t believe her eyes-- _three_ sweetener packets, Ben nods. “I’m from Detroit.”

“I’ve never been there.”

“It’s all right,” he replies, dumping the first of three sweetener packets into his coffee. “Kind of boring, I’ve lived a bunch of places since that have been far more interesting. Including here. I’ve--” He reaches for another sweetener packet. “I don’t know, it’s weird. Savannah is the only place so far that I haven’t felt like leaving within five years.”

Another twitch of her eyebrows. “Really? Why?”

“Look at it, it’s beautiful here. The beaches, the historic architecture, the islands.” Gesturing vaguely around them, he sets his sights on his third creamer packet. “And given my profession, there’s something romantic about it, too.”

“Isn’t this the most haunted city in America?”

His eyes roll as he takes his first sip of coffee. “You truly are quite the pessimist, aren’t you?”

“The city is beautiful, there’s just a lot of history here. Not all of it was good. Hence the hauntings.”

“Are you telling me you believe in ghosts, Rey?”

Taking a sip of her coffee, she shakes her head. “That would be nonsense, wouldn’t it? I am just saying, this isn’t the city of love. That’s Paris.”

Lips parting in a smile, he pushes aside the menu. “No, but it’s pretty kick-ass nonetheless or we wouldn’t be here, would we?”

She finds herself grinning back at him as the waitress returns to their table. “No, I suppose we wouldn’t,” she replies, then they both turn away as the woman whose nametag reads “Miranda” appears with a little ticket book, and they both manage to order without a menu. 

They don’t manage to order without snickering to themselves after. 

When the waitress leaves, he sips his coffee again. “So, why did _you_ pick Savannah?”

“My mother and I did, actually,” she admits. Savannah wasn’t her choice. She loves the city, but to say she picked it would be a lie. “She adopted me as a baby while she lived in London then after a few years--long enough for me to develop an accent--we moved over to the states.” 

Ben nods as he processes this, then his eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “Wait, Maz--like Maz’s Cantina?”

“The very same. She opened it up for the first time when we moved to Ellijay in the form of a taco truck, but then decided that wasn’t her style.” She smiles fondly at the memory of her mother the day she realized the mountains of North Georgia weren’t where they were meant to be. Maz had broken her favorite pot, smashed it into the ground when she’d stared off into space, the realization blooming within her before she turned to her young daughter, and next thing she knew they were packing up and moving south. “She knew how much I loved the ocean so she moved us here to be closer to it.”

His eyes soften, then he looks out the window, staring off into the distance as if he can see that ocean she described. “So I guess I should take you to more beach weddings, then.”

“I mean, it’d be nice, but you don’t have to.” Taking another sip of her coffee, she finds her eyes wandering over to his hand, her mind filled with the sudden urge to hold it. “We could always just go to the beach whenever we want to. We don’t have to wait for an occasion.”

If it were possible, she’s pretty sure his eyes would go up past his hairline. “That sounds like a date.”

Somehow, she manages to not spray her coffee all over him. “What? No, no, sorry, I didn’t mean to seem like I was coming onto you, I just… I like spending time with you and--and--I wanted to--”

Ben puts a hand up. “No, no, it’s fine. I just, I’ve never taken someone to a beach for any reason aside from a date.”

She hasn’t either, to be fair. Most of her beach visits, aside from solo walks or jogs, have been on failed attempts at dating back when she was still attempting to think love was a possibility. It isn’t necessarily the most romantic place, but a good sunset is a good sunset. Maybe she should try and enjoy one with Ben, they can just walk and enjoy it with someone she knows won’t end up hurting her. 

Looking at him now, she finds the corners of her mouth twitching up again. “I think it’d be wonderful just to hang out without needing to get dolled up or drunk. We could just walk for a while.”

He falls quiet. Thoughts dance in front of his eyes as if he too is picturing it, just walking without any pretense or expectations for the evening. It’d be casual, just like the rest of their relationship--easy, like breathing. “That sounds great.”

“If you’re not tired of me, I get off work at five. We could go there tonight?” 

There’s a look on his face that tells her he’s going to say yes, but before he can say anything, the waitress returns with their food, setting it down between them as their eyes lock on one another, the conversation silent between them as they wait to find themselves alone again. Not that they have a reason to stall conversation, they’re not talking about anything forbidden, but she still feels as if it’s too intimate to share somehow.

“I know you want to say yes.”

“How can you know?”

“I see it in your eyes, you want to go.”

He shrugs. “What can I say? I like spending time with you. We’ve established this.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

At this, she _does_ give in to the urge to take his hand, shock filling his eyes as she does it, but he doesn’t pull away. “You’re already one of my favorite people. Mind you, I don’t have many favorite people, but still, that means something to me.”

They remain quiet until the waitress leaves, ignorant of their food for several seconds on end until finally, she caves, laughing helplessly as she looks down at the food in front of her. “So, I guess we’re on for tonight?”

“It’s a date,” he teases, and instantly, her mind goes back to the night they met, when he’d said those same words to her as they’d clinked their glasses and made their bet. 

“It’s not a date.”

“I know.”

“I’m not a romantic.”

The smile falters slightly but doesn’t fade completely as his fingertip begins to trace the edge of his coffee cup. “No, you’re not.” Without another word, he reaches for his fork, his eyes staring rather adoringly at his waffle. 

Wishing she could ask him why he looked almost a little sad--or that she had the _courage_ to ask him, she gives her waffle the same stare of adoration. Ben’s probably just being a little nostalgic, that’s it. There’s nothing else she’ll allow it to be. 

This thing with him, the friendship they have, is good and pure. She won’t ruin it by risking everything for something she’s seen end badly so many times. He’s wonderful, truly one of the kindest, most genuine souls she’s ever met. Only a matter of weeks have gone by since she met, but she already doesn’t want to let him out of her life, not like that. 

She’s not a romantic, this whole bet hinges around the idea of her believing in love or not. And she can’t afford to lose. 

*

Walking into work two hours later feels like a bucket of cold water being dumped on her head, but a necessary one. Rose is already there, of course, typing away various emails to clients as she walks in, setting her stuff down on her chair before rubbing her head, and facing her coworker with a grim smile. “So what fuckery can I look forward to today?”

The woman on the other side of the room doesn’t smile this time, she’s tapping her fingers on the side of her head, her features pinched in frustration. “We got some news from our client this morning. The wife said they’re thinking about reconciliation, but they’re putting us on standby.” She runs her hands through her hair, groaning loudly as she props her arm up on the back of the chair and turns to Rey. “And we have another client with five children that she wants full custody of. Five. That’s a lot of kids. We’re in for a busy workday and it’s not even noon.”

“Shit,” she breathes, then she pauses. “Wait, you said one of the couples wants to reconcile? That’s good for them, though, means they don’t need us, but it also means we lose business.”

“Yeah, but I’m not too worried about them. I think they’ll be fine. It’s just a pain in the ass to be on ‘stand by.’”

“They’ll be back, they always are.” Sitting down, she turns to her computer, which whirs to life once she presses the power button, the sound briefly loud enough to fill the room. “Good luck to them, though, I guess.”

Rose scoffs. “Always the pessimist, Rey.”

“It’s why you love me.”

“Mmhmm, sure.” 

Rolling her eyes, she turns back toward her computer. “If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t have helped me out this morning when I said I was going to be late.”

Mischief quirks Rose’s eyebrows, and she nods eagerly as she leans forward, beckoning her friend to continue. “So… you look surprisingly happy this morning, speaking of.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You walked in her smiling and you wished our possibly reconciling clients luck instead of just saying it wouldn’t work out.” She gestures forward, her gaze sweeping up and down Rey’s body. “I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. I don’t think it’s just nothing.”

Blood begins to pump rapidly through her veins, her heart pounding more and more with every passing second. She’d thought she’d put that kind of thought behind her when she’d left Ben at Waffle House, thought she’d be able to forget about the brief inkling she’d had about him being more than just her friend, but apparently Rose has other ideas.

 _But it isn’t just Rose_ a little voice in the back of her head says. She knows how she felt this morning waking up with Ben in her arms. He’d been so warm and he’d felt so comfortable in her arms, it’s hard not to wish for more mornings that start exactly like that. Maybe sometimes she could wake up with him holding her like that, or they could switch every other night depending on their mood. 

It’s not a good idea for her to keep thinking about it. Continuing to think about it will allow the seed of the idea to grow, and she has to nip it in the bud before it becomes something more, something bigger. Something that will destroy this relationship between them and break her heart the way she’s been struggling to avoid it getting broken for so long. 

Besides, they’ve only known each other for a short amount of time. She could be overthinking all of this. 

“It is nothing. We barely know each other anyways.”

“Yeah, but you talk about him like he’s your best friend already. I know that’s my job, but y’all have bonded so much since you met that it feels like he’s starting to share the responsibilities.” 

That can’t be true. Yes, he’s a friend and yes, he’s a very good one, but he hasn’t eclipsed best friend duties so much yet that he’s taking over everything. “I think that’s a little overdramatic.” 

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, but if he’s going to be your other best friend, I think we should meet.”

 _Oh,_ that sounds brilliant. Two of her favorite people together is a concept she can get behind and probably the best thing she’s been told all day. “We did agree to go to the beach later after work. Getting in a good beach walk before fall kicks in.” Clapping her hands together, she beams at her coworker, grinning from ear to ear. “You should come with us.”

Rose shifts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is this an attempt to get me to stop asking you about your feelings for Ben?”

 _I’m going to kill you_ , she thinks, but then she shakes her head. “It’s not an attempt at anything if those feelings don’t exist.”

A sad smile tugs at the corners of her friend’s mouth. “You know it’s not a bad thing, right? To want someone like that?”

“If I can see the end of it coming from a thousand miles away--”

“Rey, I love you so much, but you’re so fucking stubborn. I’m not saying you already have feelings for him, though I sure think you do; you don’t need to be scared of something before you even start. Yes, relationships can end badly, but life is short, babe.” She leans back in her chair, that smile never fading as she watches her think. “Sometimes it’s worth the risk, I mean, look at me and Jannah. We took the risk and we’re happier than we’ve ever been.”

Another fair point. Rose and Jannah are delightful together, they’re the sort of couple that she genuinely hopes makes it and will be disappointed if it somehow doesn’t work out, but still, the chances are slim. “Yes, but this whole bet between Ben and I depends on him being able to convince me love is real. I can’t cave before it’s over. I can’t even think about it.”

A loud groan leaves her coworker’s lips. “I hate you so much, oh my god.” She turns back to her computer as the smile grows from sad to kind. “I love you, but promise me that when your bet is over, you’ll at least consider reevaluating whether you think love is real.”

That’s a fair point. If it’s no longer a part of their bet, maybe after Ben’s wedding deal is over and they go on to just being normal friends, she can maybe open her mind to the idea that it still exists. “I will think about it.”

“Good,” Rose replies, then she points to Rey’s computer. “We should probably get to work.”

“Yeah, I’ve put it off long enough today.” Turning to her computer, she shoots one more brief smile in her friend’s direction. “Thanks again for what you did this morning.”

“You had a good time, right?”

“I did.”

“Then that’s all that matters, but you owe me a favor.”

Rey just laughs as her fingers find the keyboard, logging into the computer as she nods. “Anything you want,” she says, then she freezes. “Wait, shit, let me just text Ben and let him know you’re coming.”

Rose holds up an OK symbol with her hand, then she’s back to typing away at her computer, leaving Rey free to check her phone and blush at his first text in peace.

Ben  
  
You get to work okay?  
  
Yeah I’m good  
  
My coworker is rooting for you by the way. To win our bet.  
  
Oh?  
  
Yeah, she thinks I’m just being stubborn.  
  
Oh, she’s right. You are.  
  
Oh suck my dick, Ben Solo. You’re evil.  
  
Okay, when and where?  
  
You’re not supposed to agree with me. You’re supposed to be offended.  
  
Well, you love one night stands so...  
  
GOD SUCK MY DICK.  
  
Anyway, my coworker is a wonderful woman and I was hoping you’d be cool with her joining us at the beach.  
  
Sure! As long as she doesn’t mind me casually flirting with you.  
  
And you don’t mind it either.  
  
I never mind your flirting.  
  
Perfect. Then I don’t mind your guest.  
  
Really?  
  
Of course.  
  
NICE. See you tonight. Tybee Island?  
  
Sounds good.  
  
Love ya.  
  
PFFT Love ya too. See you there.  
  



	10. Sunset

Together, Rey and Rose hop in her car and make their way toward Tybee Island the minute the workday ends. They’re both still in workwear, but she thinks they can just take off their blazers and they’ll be fine. Their shoes will have to go, too, but that can wait until later when they get there.

For now, they’re cruising down the highway, the windows rolled down and the radio playing an old Fleetwood Mac song as the sun makes its way to the western horizon. An atmosphere perfect for a late afternoon drive. Both she and her coworker have their elbows propped up on the window’s edge, feeling the breeze roll past them as the stress of the day blows off with it. 

Most of the drive is spent listening to the songs, singing along when they know the words, but eventually, she feels the other woman’s eyes on her. Without looking, she knows what her friend is thinking. More questions about the man they’re driving to meet no doubt are on her mind, and she’s not sure she’s prepared to answer them. 

She’s still trying to repress the thought she’d had that morning in the Waffle House about him, and by all the gods she doesn’t believe in, she’s going to succeed. Still, she kind of wants to get that conversation over with before she has to go see him again, so she sighs, giving her passenger a sideways glance before she turns onto the next road to the island. “What are you thinking about?”

“What’s Ben like? I mean, I know you said he’s kind of sexy and he’s a sweetheart--amongst a lot of other gushy shit, but what is he like?” All the words come out at once, in a rush, as if she’s been holding them in and the dam just broke. 

It’s better than what she thought was about to be asked, though. 

Snorting her amusement, Rey guides them onto the bridge leading into the island. “He’s great, I mean it, I think you’ll get along. You’re both optimists.”

“I mean, what does he look like?”

Ben’s image comes to mind immediately. Raven waves and full, rosy lips fill her vision, and it’s a wonder that she doesn’t manage to crash the car as she pictures him smiling, his head thrown back in laughter at some drunken tomfoolery they’ve gotten themselves into. Or Ben dancing, bouncing around like an idiot as he laughs at the fact that she can’t seem to move well at all. 

Those eyes that haunt her dreams, that make her wonder what goes on inside of his head. 

Snapping back to reality, Rey clears her throat. “He just looks like any average man, I guess. I mean, he’s absurdly large, built like a refrigerator, but other than that, normal.” It feels like a lie rolling off of her tongue, but she goes with it. There isn’t anything abnormal about him, after all, but he’s still extraordinary. 

“Oh, great! So he’s going to tower over me the _entire time_ we’re hanging out.”

“Not the entire time,” Rey promises, then she turns onto the street that runs along the oceanside, searching for one of many, many parking lots designated for the exact purpose of what they’re about to do. “Look, he’s great. Easy on the eyes, too.”

She can see Rose’s smirk out of the corner of her eye. “Oh, so you _do_ want to fuck him?”

“I absolutely do not.” Well, she can be honest about one thing. “Okay, maybe I do, but I don’t want to run the risk of making it awkward.”

“Two people can entirely be friends and fuck.”

“You and Jannah lasted two weeks.”

“Look, we’re not a good example. Remember that guy I was friends with in law school who I fucked on graduation night cause I was jovial and wanted to have a good time? He and I still talk all the time.”

Maybe her friend has a point. Sex _can_ be casual, and Ben is objectively hot and she does kind of want to bang him, but still--he’s a hopeless romantic and she’s avidly against anything to do with the idea of romance. Casual with them is a risk she’s not ready to take, not now and possibly not ever. “I can’t do casual with Ben, he means too much to me.”

“Hey, you do what you want to do,” Rose replies, patting her arm affectionately as they turn into a parking lot. “But I think if y’all are ready to have that conversation, you should?”

“I’m not asking Ben if he’ll fuck me just because he happens to be hot.” _Amongst other reasons._ “Besides, what if he’s terrible in bed?”

The woman in her passenger seat guffaws as Rey pulls into a parking space, clapping her hands delightedly until the car stops, and the engine shuts off. “Oh, babe, what are we going to do with you?”

Rolling her eyes, she pulls out her phone, unbuckling her seatbelt with one hand while she types out a text to the subject of their conversation with the other.

Ben  
  
Hey we’re here.  
  
Parking lot off mile marker 10?  
  
The very same :D  
  
Where are you?  
  
Black car five down from you. I’m lounging against the trunk.  
  
Aight see you in a second.  
  
I’m really excited for you to meet Rose, by the way. I think y’all will like each other.I HOPE.  
  
Stop texting me and get out of your car so we can find out.  
  
So bossy smh  
  


“Come on,” she says to Rose, turning off the engine before she opens her door, unbuckles her seatbelt, and gets up out of the car. Behind her, she can hear her friend doing the same, the two women sharing a knowing look over the roof before she walks out from behind the car next to her, and searches for the man leaning against the trunk of his car.

Thanks to his size, it takes her no time to spot him at all. Since this morning, he’s changed from his rumpled tux into a t-shirt and jeans. White fabric strains to cover his chest, the visible outlines of both his pecs reminding her vividly of the conversation she’d just been having a few minutes before. That compared with the tightness of his jeans, the aviators hiding the crinkles of his eyes as he smiles--she’s going to die. 

Then his arm rises in a wave, and she damn near wolf whistles. Ben Solo in casual clothing, what a concept. 

Pushing himself off his car, he makes his way over, long legs crossing the gap between himself, Rey, and Rose in less than ten strides. It might even be five, she’s not sure, she’s too busy trying to look anywhere but his stupid fucking chest. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself,” she says back, unable to think of anything more clever. Fortunately, her mind doesn’t blank completely, allowing her the mental capacity to turn back to Rose and introduce her. “Ben, this is Rose, Rose, this is Ben.”

The grin falls slightly, but its energy remains in the air, lingering in a way that assures her he isn’t unhappy. “Hi.”

“Wow, you _are_ tall.” The other woman’s eyes sweep up and down, examining him thoroughly but not holding onto any particular part of him for too long. Even though her friend is taken, a pang of something she can’t read is aching in her chest, something almost… possessive. “Rey wasn’t kidding.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Cute, too.”

At this, though she can’t see his eyes, she can feel them go wide as they look at her. “ _Cute?_ ”

Rey shrugs. “Her words, not mine,” she replies, laughing nervously as she aides the sea breeze in brushing a piece of hair back from her face. “So! We’re losing daylight, shall we?” 

Gesturing toward the sand and the sea, she looks out where the waves are crashing upon the shore, the sound has been the backdrop to their conversation thus far. Not that there’s been much of a conversation beyond introductions, but they have time. 

“Guess so,” Ben replies, then together, the three of them make their way out onto the boardwalk leading to the beach. 

It’s truly a beautiful day. Now that her hangover’s gone and the workday is over, she can properly enjoy it. Already the sunset is painting the sand an array of orange-pink colors, some of the grains glittering in the light as if they have joined with the ocean. Around them, dunes rise to their waists, some would likely even be taller than their heads were it not for the boardwalk guiding them over their tops. 

Little green ferns and purple flowers line the branches of the plants, a part of her wonders what they’d look like if she stuck one in his hair, but she pushes that thought aside as they come upon a set of stairs that will lead them down to the beach. This is what they’ve come for, not her invasive thoughts about putting flowers in his hair.

Thoughts that she wishes more than anything would stop and give her some fucking peace. 

“So, how’s the mission to get Rey to believe in love going?” Rose asks once they’re on the beach, kicking off their shoes so they don’t get covered in sand. “I know how _she_ thinks it’s going, but I want to know _your_ thoughts.”

Shoving his sunglasses into his pocket, Ben tosses her a quick wink, then he’s looking at her friend again. “Well, I think she’ll cave after the next one, but she’s stubborn.”

“Oi!”

He scoffs as they begin to walk, his hands slipping into his pockets as they make their way to the water’s edge. “You are.”

Humming her agreement, Rose kicks a bit of sand into the air, laughing gleefully like a child. “So when’s your next wedding?”

“Next week if she’s free.”

“She is,” Rey confirms, nudging Ben with her elbow as he gives her another boyish grin. “I’m glad you’re giving me a week, though, we had one hell of a night.”

Her coworker’s eyebrows shoot up to the sky. “When you say it like that, it sounds like y’all fucked, you know that, right?” 

Thank god for the orange hue of the sunset, it conceals her blush perfectly, or rather, she thinks it does. It’s still barely enough, she wagers, but it’s better than nothing. She wishes she weren’t blushing in the first place and is genuinely not sure why it’s happening, why she feels so weird and has all day, but she’s going to keep ignoring it as best she can. After all, as Ben said, she’s stubborn. 

They all know it. 

Rolling her eyes, she takes note of an approaching wave, kicking water in Rose’s direction the instant the water reaches her feet. The woman beside her throws her head back in laughter, splashing her in vengeance. “Oh, come on, Rey, I was only teasing.”

“Asshole.”

“I love you,” she sing-songs, then as the wave retreats, she looks out over the horizon, sighing contentedly. “Ugh, this is so nice.”

Tilting her head back, Rey smiles. It _is_ nice. The water is so blue and clear, it’s as if it’s been plucked from some kind of painting or old and beautiful legend. She can certainly understand why so many of Ben’s couples get married here. This is one of her favorite places, too. “Truly delightful.”

As if he can read her mind--and if she were the praying type, she’d pray he couldn’t--the man beside her leans in, and points behind them. “Why do you think so many people get married here?”

“How many of your weddings would you say happen on the beach?”

“Around here? Probably close to sixty percent.”

“Only sixty?”

“A generous estimate.”

Rey snorts. “Okay, then where’s our next wedding?”

Quiet settles over the three for a moment, then the ocean fills the silence, speaking the truth when she can tell Ben is suddenly too stubborn to admit he’s wrong. “Okay, yeah, it’s on a beach, but the forty percent is honest. Once you get into the fall and winter weddings, no one wants to be outside.”

“I get that…” Rose pauses, then she points to Ben. “I have two very stupid questions and this is going exactly where you think it’s going.”

“I actually don’t know where it’s going.”

_Oh, Ben, sweet, sweet, dumbass Ben._

Rey pats his arm. “Just think for a second, babe, it’ll come to you.”

“No, no, I’ll just tell him, I won’t make him suffer.” Rose pats his shoulder, reaching around her to do it as she takes a deep breath. “My first question is, how do I propose to someone?”

She’d already suspected this is what would happen, but it’s refreshing to hear it and know she’s right. “So you’re thinking of proposing to Jannah then?”

This time, Rose is blushing, and now that they’re not facing the sun, it shows in the shadows. “I am. I mean, I’m just thinking about it, but…” She walks around Rey, coming to stand on the other side of Ben as she speaks. “I know you’re a wedding planner not the guy who proposes, but surely you know something.”

His face softens, then he nods. “I’ve seen a few proposals yeah. Honestly the best advice I can give you? Don’t overdo it.”

“Don’t overdo it?”

“Yeah. Don’t rent out a mall for a flash mob, don’t hire a skywriter--god knows how many times I’ve seen that go wrong--just ask her.” His voice grows quiet, blending a little with the ebb and flow of the waves in front of them. “This is about you and her, a new step in your relationship. Besides, I’ve heard most people like it better that way when it’s softer, more intimate.”

That may be true, but Rey suspects somehow that he’s not just talking about others. This is what _he_ wants. This is how he wants someone to ask him to marry them one day, or alternatively, how he plans to propose to someone. It’s a fun image, Ben getting down on one knee, that goofy smile and those dimples on full display--

She just can’t picture _who_ it is he’ll be proposing to. 

Rose’s little, “aw,” in response pulls her out of that mental image, bringing her back to reality. “I love that. Okay, so something casual it is. Next question.” She claps her hands together. “Assuming she says yes--”

The interruption leaves her without her consent. “She will.”

“I’m glad you have faith in me, babe, but--” Turning back to Ben, she bites her lip. “I really want to know how open you are and how I can hire you.”

“Hire me?”

“Yeah, I know we’ve only just met, but you’re a convenient way for me to knock out two birds with one stone. Get to know Rey’s new best friend, help you win your bet, and get my wedding planned. So three birds.”

All three of them laugh at this, and even when the laughter fades, Ben’s still smiling, still outshining the sun itself as he nods. “I would love to. Believe it or not I actually do have an open space.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I’m sure Rey can give you my number and once you and your girlfriend are ready to start planning things, just text me. We can arrange meetings and such.”

“Fuck yeah, I’d love that,” Rose says, then she turns back to Rey. “Okay, I like him.”

All she can do is look up, her eyes meeting his as the smile on his face grows. He’s radiant like this, positively beaming, and it isn’t just from the rosy, orange light of the sunset either. There’s happiness coming off of him in waves from her friend’s approval, and she finds she thinks it’s a rather good look on him. It’s wonderful seeing him like this, watching him thrive, and it stirs some weird feeling in her stomach that she’s heard people describe as butterflies. 

_Oh no_. Not butterflies--she can’t be having butterflies. No fluttery feelings of any kind. None of them should be allowed, and yet, here they are. As much as she can try to deny it, she feels something. There’s more to what she feels in her chest when she looks at him than the simple, but adoring affection she feels when she looks at her other best friend. 

Love is not real, she stands by that, but there’s something happening inside of her, something she feels toward Ben--or is starting to--and that’s frightening. 

She thinks back to what she pictured when Ben started talking about the best proposal stories he’s heard. Had she pictured a face for who he’d be marrying or had there just been a black silhouette? There had been something, yes, a suspiciously feminine silhouette that she won’t acknowledge the full shape of. 

Looking at him now, she realizes at the bare minimum, he brings her joy just to look at him. He makes her happy, and she isn’t sure what he is to her if what she feels for him might be something different than just their easy going friendship, but still. It’s nice. 

He smiles like the sun and makes her world feel brighter every time he’s in it. This is one of the many things about him that makes her hope that he’ll be in her life for not just the near future, but for a very, very long time. 

The smile slowly fades, lingering in his eyes as he begins to walk along the water’s edge, and she’s pulled back to reality by Rose joining him, the three of them soon walking side by side as the water laps at their feet. “So, what does _Rey_ like about you?” he asks. “If you’re going to vet me as Rey’s best friend, I’m going to vet you back.”

“I’ve been her best friend for years, though.” 

“You’re not exempt.”

“Ooh, thorough, I like it.”

Rey grins as she loops an arm through each of theirs, falling into step with the two people beside her as they stumble slightly in the sand. “You don’t need to vet each other. All you need to know is that I trust you both. Isn’t that enough?”

More chuckling ensues, then Rose taps her head against Rey’s shoulder. “You’re more than enough, babe.”

Then together, they fall into conversation easily, as if they’ve been friends all their lives instead of just five minutes, and as they walk down the water’s edge, she has one more important realization. Their idea of a platonic soulmate doesn’t just include each other, there’s a third part of their group that’s been missing, disconnected from the triangle for far too long, but now that they’re united, she sees it. Her coworker, her only best friend until Ben, has always been meant to be a part of this.

And she wouldn’t have it any other way.


	11. Third Time's the Charm

When she gets home from work on the day of the third wedding, she passes out immediately after putting on her dress. It’s not that the thing is comfortable, but the case she’s been dealing with has just been so exhausting, she wants to crawl up in a hole and sleep for a thousand years. The only reason she mustered up enough energy to get dressed in the first place is because of Ben.

She knows he’s excited about this. All week their texts have centered around the ridiculous fire-themed beach wedding of Armitage Hux and a woman whom he simply refers to as Phasma, but she can’t seem to get the energy up to want to join him for this.

It’s annoying.

All she wants is to have the drive to get up and check her texts, to go out to Ben’s car and have a fucking blast with him tonight. She’s still unsure how she feels about marriage as a concept, but she truly has been enjoying their time together. They just can’t get as drunk tonight as they have on the other nights. She has too sensitive a stomach for that. And her poor liver would protest.

For now, Rey dreams, mostly about cases and work, but towards the end, she sees that proposal she’d imagined for her new best friend one day—only this time, the woman he’s proposing to has a face. It’s her face, and she’s smiling happily as he whispers sweet words of love to her, kneeling down at her feet. The smile on her face grows wide as he slides it onto her finger, her heart racing in her chest as she leans in, and places a hand on his cheek, pulling him closer and closer—

The pinging sound of her text tone brings her into reality. Swearing quietly to herself, Rey reaches around the mattress until her fingers close around the phone, then she holds her finger to the menu button, waiting for the bastard device to recognize her finger print for a couple of seconds before she can finally read the text.

Ben  
  
Hey I’m here.  
  
Ah, shit, sorry. Fell asleep.  
  
I just had the WORST day at work.  
  
Are you okay?  
  
I really don’t want to talk about it.  
  
All I want is for you to take me out and get drunk with me.  
  
... you’re getting hugged.  
  
BENNNN  
  
I’m serious. You’re getting hugged. Nothing you can do about it.  
  
I’ve heard huge do wonders for bad moods.  
  
**HUGS fucking autocorrect  
  
Why are you such a fucking optimist  
  
I hate you so much  
  
Aw, sweetheart, I love you, too. Now get your ass down here.  
  
So bossy  
  
You should know, you’re an idiot.  
  
I have you to remind me on the daily. 💖  
  
See you in a minute, shithead.  
  


Then she sets her phone down, grumbling quietly to herself as she heads over to her bathroom mirror to make sure her appearance is still in good condition post-nap. Feeling satisfied with what she sees, Rey makes her way out of her apartment, trying to hide the blush coating her cheeks at the fact that he’d called her, “sweetheart.”

*

When she sees him leaning against his car, the anxiety and sadness hovering over her like a cloud disappears. He’s smiling at her; a kind, goofy smile, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, nor is it overwhelmingly wide, but she can see his dimples and that’s the most important part. All she cares about, though is that he’s here, that his arms are opening up, and he’s walking away from the car to provide her with the one thing she desperately needs right now.

His arms wrap around her, pulling her into a warm, blanketing embrace, and her head melts into his chest. God, he feels so nice. One of his hands is cradling her head oh so gently and the other is rubbing her back, causing goosebumps to form—much to her dismay—on the bare skin.

That’s the one curse of wearing a dress with an open back, she supposes.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and even though he just asked her this and they just talked about it, she loves that he bothered to double check.

“I will be,” she assured him, then she pulls back slightly, eyebrows raising at the little red Rose embroidered on the right side of his bow tie. “Changing it up a bit, I see?”

Laughter falls freely from his lips, his chest shaking them both as he continues to hold her, then he steps back, looking her up and down rather appreciatively. “I don’t have much choice, but you…” A contented hum, then he steps back further, holding her hands out to the sides before he twirls her around, earning him a delighted shriek. “You, Miss. Kanata, look _ravishing._ ”

All she’s done is change from soft lavender and blue to red. The dress is no more scandalous than the one she wore to the first wedding they attended together. Its neckline descends past her breasts, sure, and it is far more backless, and the hem stops just by her knees--

Perhaps it is more revealing after all.

Snorting her amusement, Rey steps away from him, letting her hands fall to her sides as she walks toward his passenger door. “You flatter me, Mr. Solo.”

He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “You bet I do.” But before she can ask him about it, he opens the door, and plops himself inside.

Something weird fluttering in her gut again, she follows suit, shutting her door behind her as Ben guides them out onto the road, and on toward their next wedding.

In the week since their beach trip with Rose, a lot has happened. Her two best friends have been communicating regularly, especially since she’d gone home and proposed that very night, and now all they talk about is the upcoming wedding. On Rey’s end, all she’s been able to think about is the feeling that started in her stomach that day. There are still fucking butterflies floating _everywhere._ They won’t stop, either.

Constant swarms of butterflies fill her all the time now. Well, not all the time, just when she thinks about the man currently sitting beside her. It’s the worst on nights that they text, too. He says the sweetest things to her sometimes, and she thinks about how he hardly knows her and yet he’s supportive and tender all the same.

He does everything a lover is supposed to do according to legend, but a lot of those duties overlap with best friend duties, and at this point, she genuinely isn’t sure whether or not he’s feeling something deeper for her. What’s scarier is she thinks she might be feeling something for him, and she’s good at repressing feelings, but she can’t do so forever. Allowing herself to fall in love with him just opens them both to a world of hurt, so she won’t do it.

She can’t do it. Love, after all, is just an illusion—one she will do her fucking best not to fall for.

“So what are you feeling like doing tonight?” Ben looks at her out of the corner of his eye, a smirk blossoming on his face. “Drinking? Dancing? Both?”

“Both, absolutely,” she replies. “I think I’ve recovered enough from our last hangover to drink until I can’t see straight.”

Reaching down, his smirk grows a little more severe as his hand wraps around one of hers. She tries not to think about how it makes her heart leap in her chest. “Well, I would hope so, or else I’d have to turn this car around and take you to the hospital.”

“Not in this economy.”

“Aren’t you a lawyer?”

Rolling her eyes, Rey slaps his hand away playfully and leans her head back against the seat. “I may be a lawyer, but you are a dickhead.”

“A dickhead, huh?”

“A dickhead. A thick, veiny, dickhead.”

“Quite the imagination you have there.”

She laughs. “Just drive… dickhead.”

*

This beach wedding is her favorite of the two she has attended thus far. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the lavender aesthetic of Finn and Poe’s ceremony, but the red and orange flowers that line the aisle of this one and the black carpet coated in a shimmering slate gray make for a vision of a raging fire.

The look is certainly helped by the torches standing tall over the seats and the bonfire that’s going several feet behind the altar. Apparently Ben knows his shit when dealing with people who love pyrotechnics. Well, it’s not really pyrotechnics, but there is an awful lot of fire. If anyone opens a can of hairspray out here, god help them.

All the guests have dressed accordingly, too. Some are in black or gray, others are like Rey, in vibrant shades of red, and yet another set of people is dressed in a vibrant group of orange and yellow. “It’s beautiful,” she tells Ben, looking out at where the sun is setting to the west of them. That too seems to make the world look as though it’s on fire, and she wonders if somehow he planned that. “Did you know the sun would--”

“Set like that?” He shakes his head. “I just hoped. It looks incredible, though, better than any lighting fixture I could’ve set up or anything I could’ve planned. That’s the thing about my business. Sometimes nature does all the hard work for you.”

A smile tugs on the corners of her mouth. He looks so proud of his work, of all this. The passion he has for it is refreshing, she’ll admit she loves how much he cares, how much of himself he puts into it. What he does is… good, actually. Helping people realize their dream, even if it isn’t something she thinks can last forever, is a wonderful thing. Ben is a wonderful man, and god does she--

 _No_. She can’t finish that thought, she refuses to allow herself to. They are here to celebrate the union of two people he’s been helping, not for her to have an internal crisis that goes against her core beliefs.

“I like what nature did today, then,” she says, looking over at him as she speaks. “You did good, too.”

Ben snorts, nudging her gently. “You’re a kiss ass.”

“Love you,” she teases, then he quirks an eyebrow, looking as though he desperately wants to say something, then the sounds of _Here Comes the Bride_ start playing, and they both shut up, standing and turning to face the wedding party as they begin to walk down the aisle.

The bridesmaids are wearing red, a vibrant, orange-tinted shade that glistens in the light of the setting sun to make each one look as though she is on fire. The men, like the one standing beside her, have roses embroidered on their ties, making her wonder if the wedding actually has a secret dual theme of both fire and flowers.

They do go together nicely.

At the end of it, the bride and groom appear. She isn’t walked down by her father as is tradition, nor any other family member, she and her husband simply walk together, walking down the path toward their life together as one.

It’s actually rather beautiful, the more she thinks about it the more she likes it.

The bride is one of the tallest women she has ever seen. Blonde hair reaches down to her shoulders, swept out of her face by curls that were most certainly made by a curling iron, but are beautiful nonetheless. Her gown is strapless, a sweetheart neckline accentuating a lightly tanned chest, but her shoulders are covered by a lace embroidered cape. The most radiant part of her, however, is the smile parting her red painted lips, the one hint of color on the whole thing aside from the blue hue of her eyes.

Her groom is a few inches shorter than she is, and his hair is a fiery shade that makes her wonder if he alone were the inspiration for the theme of this wedding. The thought makes her snicker out loud once they pass, causing Ben to give her a weird look and another lift of both eyebrows.

“What’s so funny?” he whispers quietly, his lips hardly moving with each word.

“I’ll tell you later.”

Giving her one last, weird look, Ben focuses his attention on the altar. She follows suit shortly after, both of them struggling to hide shit-eating grins as they watch the bride and groom take one another’s hands, and the officiant begins the opening words.

Just like the first two weddings, words of love and remembrance fill the air. The couple has that look in their eyes that makes Rey doubt her principles, but this time, she’s not actually thinking about them. Her thoughts are on weddings, for certain, but she’s thinking more on their motivations, their reasons for being willing to risk everything for something that to her seems so unattainable.

These people seem to care about one another, so why the hell are they doing something so risky?

And why does she think that given the way they keep giggling at one another over everything the officiant says is the answer? That maybe people are willing to risk it all for even a few moments of happiness? That maybe she’s been wrong about life and it’s too short to spend it worrying about something that might not even happen?

“What are you thinking about?” Ben’s voice interrupts her so suddenly, she jolts and nearly falls over, clutching tightly to his arm for support as her other hand comes up to rest on her chest as if to calm her beating heart. “Sorry.”

“We shouldn’t be talking.”

“I know, but you had this look on your face, I wanted to be sure you were okay.”

A shiver runs down her spine as he rests a hand over the one she’s placed on his arm. He’s one of the most generous people she’s ever met, always looking out for her, always making sure she’s comfortable and safe, and _god_ she wishes she’d met him sooner. “I’m fine, just thinking.”

“Thinking about how you’re going to lose after tonight?”

“Nice try, but I don’t cave easily,” she retorts, fighting back the urge to scoff, then she swats at his arm. “Now shush, they’re doing the vows.”

Dimples appear on his cheeks, his smile growing just wide enough to let her know he’s fighting back the urge to giggle, and as a result, she finds herself looking at the floor, attempting to keep her expression sober. At the altar, the groom begins to recite his vows, an accent similar to hers drifting through the air as he speaks, his words so private and personal that she almost feels guilty hearing them, but they’re lovely.

This time, it’s not a story of how they met or how he can’t believe they wound up here, but instead, he paints the way he feels about her with beautiful, flowery imagery straight of out a romance novel. She wonders if the groom is a writer, if he spends his free time writing great tales that would make Jane Austen proud.

His bride is equally talented with the way she speaks, every word carrying some deep, thoughtful meaning. Both of them speak as though every word, though it makes perfect sense, carries some hidden, deeper meaning that only the two of them can understand. Their speeches transcend her knowledge of the English language, make her think these two might be one of the rare couples that actually makes it to the end.

By the time the vows close and they come in for the kiss, Rey realizes she’s probably going to lose this bet. This is the third time she’s been made to doubt herself, and she likes to think she’s a logical person. If she has doubts, there’s a good reason, and that means there’s a good chance that she’s wrong.

They’ve talked about what they’ll do when the bet is over. Both of them know they want to remain friends but she’s stubborn, she knows that, too. This bet is going to last a lot longer than it’s supposed to. After all, she’s not one hundred percent certain she’s lost it yet. He’s made a great case, but as any good lawyer knows, that’s not all it takes to win.

As the guests rise from their seats, Ben takes her hand again, then he leans down. “So what are your thoughts?”

For a moment, her heart stops, wondering if he can read her mind or if he knows he’s an inch closer to winning. Gathering herself, she gives him a smile. “They’re sweet, very well-spoken people.”

“They’re both award-winning authors, that’s why.” Then he pauses. “You know what? They’re poets. I only just talked them out of doing their vows in haiku.”

“You’re joking.”

“I encouraged them to write poetry for the vows, but I like what they did better.”

Rey grins as they walk down the aisle, heading straight for a large, white tent with no walls that’s serving as the reception area. More fire and roses fill her vision as she looks ahead, fighting the urge to rub her hands together gleefully at the thought of another long night of foolery. “I like what they did better, too.”

He gives her a warm laugh, then he sighs. “I can only hope that I’ll say something as beautiful one day.”

“Yeah, one day,” she replies, her mind drifting back to the dream she had that afternoon before they left. She can’t remember if he said anything to her or what he said, but she imagines Ben Solo will be just perfect when he proposes to someone. No matter who that is.

Even if, for some reason that defies the gods and stars, that person is her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rey's Dress](https://www.jjshouse.com/A-Line-V-Neck-Knee-Length-Chiffon-Cocktail-Dress-With-Ruffle-Bow-S-016140361-g140361/?utm_term=140361&utm_size=06&ggsub=pl&ggntk=g&ggcid=431455960050&ggkey=&ggpos=&ggdev=c&ggdevm=&ggplm=&ggtgt=)
> 
> [Phasma's Dress](https://www.etsy.com/listing/866983505/ivory-bridal-capewhite-wedding-cloaklong?gpla=1&gao=1&)


	12. How It Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter count is going up again smh I swear I had an outline

By the time Ben whirls her out on the dance floor, she’s already drunk. Well, not drunk, per se, but she’s definitely tipsy. She’s light and feels like she’s floating, and every time he spins her about, somehow he manages to keep her upright. An anchor in a drunken sea.

They pass the time as they usually do, as has already become habit. He whirls her around and she sometimes tries to do the same to him, and when a slow song comes on, they take that as their cue to step off the floor and take a break, the two of them making their way to the water’s edge and sitting down on the sand.

Water laps gently at their toes, their shoes shucked somewhere at the edge of the dance floor as they lean back on their elbows, both praying that the ocean won’t was them away as they stare at the sparkling water. It’s glistening white now, the moon has come out and its light is shining on the waves, firelight is flickering in from the torch, backlighting them both in hues of orange and silver.

It’s warm and bright, but not overwhelming, and coupled with the coolness of the water, it makes her feel utterly divine. A feeling certainly enhanced by the alcohol buzzing through her system. Unlike last time, it doesn’t make her feel as though she’s lost control, it makes her feel warm and fuzzy.

Maybe Ben’s arm pressing against hers helps with that.

They came down here a few minutes ago, needing a moment to breathe as the party got into full swing. Now they’re just sitting, leaning against one another, basking in the glow of the setting sun. It’s worth possibly losing a bet, she thinks.

Ben hums as he rests his head atop hers, and she isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol or if she’s just happy, but she hums back, wrapping an arm around his waist as a breeze blows peacefully by. “God, this is so nice,” she says softly, giggling as a wave laps at her feet, coating them briefly in white foam before it retreats back out to sea.

“You’re so nice,” he slurs, then she laughs as he presses a kiss into her hair.

“Did you just kiss me?”

“I am very drunk, I’m not sure.” A pause. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. What kind of friendship is it if you can’t show your friends affection, hmm?”

An amused snort leaves him as he rests a hand over the one she’s placed at his waist, his grip a little more loose than it usually is. He’s drunk, very drunk, and they both know this but neither of them cares. She just knows she’s going to end up driving them home later--hopefully his car is easy to drive. “I love affection.”

“I bet you do, your drunkenness.”

“You drank as much as I did.”

She gives him another giggle. “Actually I only had two shots. You had six. I just drank three glasses of wine as chasers.”

“Disgusting.”

“You love it.”

Dimples blossom against the crown of her head as he turns to look at the ocean, pointing to the crest of a distant wave. “I bet that one will get us wet.”

Looking out, the wave in question is indeed rather large even for one at high tide. It’s large enough that she thinks if she were standing in the ocean as it approached, she’d be knocked over on impact. They really ought to move back so that they don’t get soaked, but this blissful embrace they’re in is so nice, so wonderful, she doesn’t want to break it so soon. There’s a chance it won’t hit them anyway, that they’ll be spared, but as the wave gets closer, she knows they need to move. They can just sit back somewhere further from the danger zone.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” she says, then she pulls back even though it kills her inside, and tugs on his hand.

He grumbles under his breath as she pulls him up, alcohol swimming in her brain as they stumble back together. Each step is less cohesive than the last, their feet wobbling and bodies shaking with every single inch they move forward. They’re not going to make it far, she knows, but they might make it far enough to escape the wave, and that’s the most important part.

All of her efforts, though, are not enough. They make it five steps before Ben trips over Rey’s foot, sending them down into the sand, both grunting as he falls on top of her, managing to brace himself on his forearms on impact. The water comes a moment later, soaking both of their legs and the bottom few inches of Rey’s dress as they both shriek helplessly. It’s not cold, exactly, but getting wet in clothes not meant for that purpose isn’t exactly a pleasant experience regardless of water temperature.

Whether or not it feels nice, however is the last thing on her mind. Ben’s fallen right between her legs, his body warm over hers, but all she can think about is the sizeable and obvious erection pressing against the apex of her thighs. Shivers rush down her spine as the wave retreats, but the sea breeze isn’t the only thing causing her goosebumps as their chests heave with panting breaths. They’ve never been this close before. Sure at their last wedding she’d thought there was a moment where they might—

But it’s never been like this. She can feel everything; from his beating heart to the muscles of his abdomen all the way to the aforementioned erection. This is the closest they’ve ever been, and she counts the time they’d woken up spooning one another, too—even that had not felt this confining or intimate.

For a moment, she’s speechless, utterly incapable of rational thought or even images in her head, then he shifts above her, the bulge in the front of his trousers rubbing against her clit through her skirt and a soft whimper leaves her lips. “Shit—“

“Rey—“

“Ben,” she breathes, incapable of saying anything else as he leans in even closer, his chest pressing up against hers as he falls out of focus. “We…”

_We should get back to the party._

One of his hands presses against the side of her neck, his thumb resting in the dip of her collarbone as his eyes sweep lazily over her face. He might not even realize he’s doing it, or that she can see him. Ben looks lost in his own little world, as if he’s fallen completely off the face of the earth and into some other dimension. Lips fall open, but no words come out and he remains silent. It’s this quiet that is the loudest he’s ever spoken, his voice a shouting plea in her head, but what he’s saying she isn’t sure.

And he keeps getting closer. Every second the space between them grows smaller, the last of the dying sunlight more dim, until suddenly she manages a small gasp, and it snaps her back to reality. “We should get back to the party.”

A puzzled look crosses his features as he pulls back, but then he manages a dopey grin, and rolls off of her. “Oh, okay.”

Her breathing is still more like panting for a couple of seconds, yet somehow she manages to push herself off of the ground, and offer him a hand, albeit a shaky one. “Come on, you,” she says, waiting for him to take it before she pulls him—with much effort—to his feet. “Let’s get sobered up.”

“I don’t want to.” The complaint sounds like something a toddler would say, but it’s oddly endearing. He’s cute when he’s drunk. Well, he’s always kind of cute, but he’s especially so now when he’s looking at her with puppy-dog eyes as they stumble across the beach together.

 _Get it together, Rey._ Half of these thoughts probably aren’t even genuine. They’re formed through a mix of alcohol and that weird bliss that comes with certain bad decisions. She needs to get him back to the reception, and get them both glasses of water and towels. Their lower halves are still soaked in water, the salty, fishy smell undoubtedly lingering in their clothes as they stumble back to the reception and she tries not to think about how badly she wishes they hadn’t gotten up.

*

Fifteen minutes later, she’s in the bathroom dabbing furiously at the skirt of her dress with paper towels as guests move in and out of the stalls. Some look at her in sympathy, one offers her a napkin from the reception, and someone else just snorts in amusement before walking out.

It takes all of her restraint not to give that particular person a middle finger in response.

After another five minutes, it becomes apparent to her that her dress won’t be getting much drier. Her skirt is still damp no matter how many times she pats it down, and even her legs still have goosebumps on them, though she’s fairly certain that has little to do with the water. She’s still thoroughly shaken after what happened on the beach.

There’s one more damp spot that’s already begun to dry some, but she still remembers how it felt to see it, how he felt when he’d pressed against it. She’d been wet, embarrassingly wet whilst pinned beneath him, and if he’d felt it, all she can hope for is that he thinks the ocean was responsible for soaking her underwear. It’s entirely possible the wave reached that high. It has to be.

She wonders how he’s faring in the men’s room. Once they’d returned to the party, she’d led him first to the bar near the altar for water, then they’d gone into their respective restrooms to try and dry themselves off. Hopefully he’s had better luck than she is, cause her dress is still clinging to her thighs and it’s been too long since she stepped into the bathroom.

“God damn it,” she mutters to herself as she grabs for more paper towels.

Of course, at that moment, the door opens, and in steps the bride, laughing at something someone outside said as she walks in, the cape of her dress whooshing slightly as the door shuts behind her. _Great,_ just what she needs, another witness to her misery.

The bride—Phasma, if she recalls correctly—pauses once she sees her, looking her up and down before spotting the damp red on her skirt. “Are you all right?”

“I had a tumble in the water,” she replies, holding up the paper towel in her hand for reference. “Now I can’t seem to dry off my dress.”

“Oof, I’m sorry. Have you tried standing by the fire?”

“I… no.” Wow, she feels like a fucking idiot. Why had she gone into the bathroom when that massive fucking bonfire was right there? Thinking back on it, she remembers how quickly she’d wanted to get inside, how even though they were in the open air, it still felt almost suffocating to breathe. “I’m a bit off at the moment. Old brain isn’t working the way she’s supposed to.”

“Oh, I can relate.” She holds out her hand. “I’m Phas, by the way.”

She shakes it with more confidence than she thinks has. “Rey.”

“Ben’s date, right?” When she receives a nod, the bride beams at her. “He’s been talking about you for the last few days. Told us all about your bet. It’s a cute story.”

“Cute?”

“He plans weddings for a living and you help people through divorces. It’s hilarious.”

Managing a nervous laugh, Rey tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s been fun, yeah, except for this.” She gestures to her dress. “If we’d made it a few steps further I think we wouldn’t both be soaked. I just lost the ability to think for a couple of minutes, I guess.”

Phasma hums her understanding. “That tends to happen in the early days. Especially when you think you’re still unsure.”

“Unsure of what?”

“That you’re in love with him.”

_What?_

More laughter falls from her lips, goosebumps forming on her arms again as she steps back toward the paper towel dispenser, chucking her soaked through towel in the bin beneath it. “I’m not in love with Ben.” It feels like a lie the moment she says it, though. She’s been thinking about it for a while now, how she feels, and while she’s figured she’s probably losing the bet, having someone else say something about her feeling something romantic for him is—

“I saw you on the beach. I don’t know you, beyond the idea that you’re not a romantic, but I know what love looks like. You’re in the early days, but you’re there, sweetheart.” Holding out a hand, the woman before her offers a kind smile. “It’s okay to be afraid of it, but you can’t hide forever. That’s no way to live.”

“He’s just my friend, though. I don’t want to risk screwing it up.”

Phas just shrugs. “Some things are worth that risk. Look where I am now.” The hand she has outstretched toward Rey inches closer. “Come on. I already took Ben out by the fire a few minutes ago. He was stumbling around looking for you.”

Still having an internal crisis, she takes the bride’s hand. Just because she has a point, doesn’t mean she’s right. Sometimes the risk is too great and besides, she’s still not certain she’s in love with him. It _has_ only been a few weeks, after all. “Is he all right?”

A nod is given, then the two of them begin to make their way from the bathroom, Rey’s skirt swishing heavily as they go. “Is he all right, though? He’s a lot more drunk than I am.”

“He’s fine. He still had water with him and last I checked he was drinking it.”

That causes the corners of her mouth to twitch as they step out onto the beach, the bass of a song thudding in her ears as she and Phas head toward the fire. Somehow, she can hear it crackling in her ears over the bass and the roar of the ocean’s waves. It’s loud, almost as loud as the silence that had fallen on herself and her date earlier, but it falls quiet when she sees him.

Ben is laughing, pointing at the groom with a handful of a glass of water as he sits down on his right side. The two men are both damn near chortling, making her wonder what could possibly be so funny as the bride lets go of her hand, and jogs ahead to come up behind her husband. Once she reaches him, she brings her hands around to cover his eyes, a shocked jolt running through Armitage before he reaches around, and squeezes her waist, both of them swearing loudly as they erupt into further bouts of laughter.

None of them are laughing as hard as the wedding planner. He’s practically red in the face, a flush growing deeper on his cheeks by the second as he points at the groom. “That was good!” His voice is less slurred now, but she’s still worried about him as she approaches the little white bench they’ve sat down on, taking the free spot on his left. Seeming to sense her movement, he turns, his face lighting up as he realizes she’s there, then he pulls her into a one-armed hug, shouting her name delightedly before he points back to the newlyweds. “This is my best friend.”

Patting his chest, Rey looks at the bride, who’s giving her a smirk as she sits down beside her husband. “I’ve never met this man in my life,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm as Ben groans his dissent. “No idea who he is.”

The bench shakes with their next round of laughter, the four of them falling loose to the buzz of alcohol and joy. It’s a wonderful feeling, this camaraderie they’ve built. No one on this bench has known each other for long, but their company is great enough that there’s a sense of peace just being around them, and that makes her realize something else about weddings—they aren’t just good for the couple, they bring people together.

This is a place where people can let loose, experience joy, and feel alive again—where they can take a break from the boredom and hardship of their regular lives. Maybe that’s another reason why people do it, why they risk it all. To feel that sense of togetherness, to be with not just the person they’ve bound themselves to, but to feel surrounded by more than just one kind of love.

Warmth floods her body, and she knows it’s not just from the fire. The flames certainly help, but it’s the company that makes her feel complete—and like she’s about to lose their bet.

“Are you warming up?” Phas asks, interrupting her thoughts.

“I wasn’t cold.”

“You were shivering when you got here,” the groom points out, his eyes locked on where her shoulder is currently making contact with Ben’s. “You don’t seem to be now.”

 _Oh._ “Guess I’m not.” But she’s not looking at Armitage when she says this. Instead, she’s looking at Ben, watching flames dance in his irises as he stares at the fire. “I’m drying off, though. This works a lot better than those paper towels.”

Though they’re not looking at each other, she can feel the knowing look on the bride’s face. “I’m sure it does.” Then she clears her throat, drawing Rey’s attention back in her direction. “Which one of you drove here?”

“He did, but I’m going to steal his car keys.”

“You sure you’re feeling well enough to drive?” the groom asks, seeming a little hesitant.

She dips her head. “I will be in about thirty minutes.”

The bride and groom look at each other, then the former gives a soft smile. “All right then, we’re going to go dance. My father will kill me if he doesn’t get one in before the night is over.” She and her husband stand, then she places a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “She’s absolutely lovely, you have my approval.”

Another crimson flush coats his cheeks as the couple walks away, then he leans back toward Rey, resuming their earlier position as his head rests atop hers. “Sorry about that.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, love,” she assures him, then she wraps an arm around his waist. “You feeling okay?”

“I feel like I’m going to regret this in the morning.”

A giggle falls loose as she rubs her palm gently up and down on his back, causing him to sigh as he leans into her a little further. “You will.”

“That feels so nice.”

“Mmhmm.”

Taking another sip of his water, Ben then sets his glass down, his hand coming to rest in his lap. “You’re wonderful, you know that? You’re really, truly wonderful.”

At this, her lips part in another smile, then she sighs as she leans against him, his warmth flooding in much more quickly than that of the fire as they watch it burn. “You’re wonderful, too,” she replies, her voice quiet as she wonders why he told her this, what it could possibly mean.

When she says she thinks he’s wonderful, she means it in a multitude of ways; she’s talking about his sense of humor, the way he never fails to make her feel sane, the warmth that floods her every time they make contact, and the budding feeling in her chest that seems to resemble one she’d never thought she’d feel. Does he feel that, too? Is that what he means?

 _That tends to happen in the early days,_ Phas had said, and Rey is starting to think she’s right in more way than one. Maybe they are in the early days, maybe early days means not knowing yet just how she feels, but knowing she feels something, and that’s where she is right now. There is something there that wasn’t there before, but what that is, she’s still learning.

And if she’s just holding on through the ride, then she’s intrigued to see where it goes.


	13. Emergency Planning

Rose 🌹  
  
Hey. So… can you text Ben to wake the fuck up?  
  
It’s important.  
  
Is everything okay?  
  
So you know how originally I wanted to wait until next summer to get married so we could plan something nice?  
  
Yeah?  
  
Jannah just got some bad news. Her mom’s not doing too hot and they’re worried she won’t make it through the year.  
  
Oh no!  
  
Yeah, so we’re moving the wedding date up to ASAP to not take any chances. I need Ben to answer his damn phone so I can find out what exactly we can do with only three weeks to plan.  
  
Shit, babe I’m so sorry. I’ll wake him up as soon as I finish these pancakes. He’s currently hungover in my bed.  
  
OH?  
  
It’s not like that. He was too drunk to drive so I took him back to my place after the wedding.  
  
Uh huh. Sure, Jan.  
  
I’m serious.  
  
A) yeah right B) let me have this I could really use the distraction.  
  
If you could use the distraction, then can I ask you something serious?  
  
Sure. I’ve got a minute. Jannah’s out at the grocery store  
  
So… last night we attended another wedding?  
  
👀👀👀  
  
And we kept on getting all flustered and stuff and we sat down by the beach to try and get less drunk and we got too close to the water—  
  
Rose this fucking wave hit us and soaked us and he was on top of me and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.  
  
A) he was hard and B) I thought we were gonna kiss for a solid twenty seconds.  
  
What stopped you?  
  
i don’t even remember. I was too fucking gone. But I talked to the bride in the bathroom when I was trying to dry off and she was like “that’s how it always is in the beginning. DO I LOOK LIKE IM INTO BEN???? Is that the vibe I give off??????  
  
Oh, honey.  
  
Rose I don’t know what to do. I think I’m starting to feel that way about him, but you know why I can’t. I don’t want to end up like our clients.  
  
I’ve heard your speech a thousand times before. Believe me. I know. And as delicious as your confusion is, I’m just gonna tell it to you straight: just breathe babe. It’s okay if you do have feelings it’s okay if you don’t. Just give yourself time to figure it out. If you’ve already figured it out, awesome. Just breathe. It’ll all work out as it’s meant to in the end.  
  
But what do I do?  
  
You wait until you’re comfortable saying something, then you tell him. If he feels the same way, let me tell you. There’s nothing like it.  
  
You sure?  
  
I don’t want to lose him.  
  
You won’t, okay?  
  
Okay. Pancakes are done so I’m gonna go ask him about planning a three week wedding 😬🤞  
  
I love and appreciate you so much!  
  
I love and appreciate you, too.  
  
💖  
  


The batter is actually still sizzling on the griddle as she types this, but Rose doesn’t need to know that. She’s only off by a minute or two, and judging by the sound of the groaning she can hear coming from her bedroom, her drunken gremlin of a best friend is starting to wake up on his own.

A laugh wrenches itself free at the thought of poor, hungover Ben. Last night, he’d truly drunk himself stupid. She’d had to put him in the backseat of his own car as she drove them both home, and he’d been giggling the whole time as if she’d put him before the screen during an SNL skit. It was almost endearing; still is every time she thinks about it, but she can’t let it happen again. His poor liver will definitely protest.

They’d gotten to her apartment just twenty minutes later, Rey slinging an arm around his waist as she pulled him up to her place—well, more accurately, _dragged_ —and brought him to her bed. Exhaustion had prevented her from thinking too hard on how sweet he looked passed out on her pillow. She didn’t even have the energy to pull the covers over them before she snuggled up behind him, figuring they might as well resume the position they’d had after the last time they’d woken up together.

And anyway, she woke up that morning long before he did. The only difference this time was that she got the chance to look down at his sleeping face before getting up. He’d been beautiful in his sleep, his hair spread out all over his face, covering the moles and pink hue of his lips. It once again occurred to her that this was nice, that it felt good to wake up beside him.

Reaching out absentmindedly, she’d caught herself just before her fingers could brush aside those strands of his hair. For one, there was the risk of him waking up, and for another, she still didn’t want to face the feelings which had blossomed in her gut.

And that’s how she’s wound up here, holding a plate full of pancakes in one hand and reaching for her bedroom door with the other, praying Ben has a magic solution for Rose and Jannah’s emergency wedding. Or is it wedding emergency? At this point, she’s not really sure, but she thinks it fits either way.

A wince cinches her features as the door knob rustles loudly, the door itself squeaking slightly as she pushes it open, and once again finds herself looking down at his sleeping form. He’s exactly as she left him, his hair all over his face and his chest rising and falling at a slow, even pace. Her friend is still sound asleep, which is good, he needs the rest after the night they had, but she needs him awake more.

Well, technically, Rose needs him awake, but she’s not really counting.

“Ben,” she whispers, setting the plate down by the nightstand on his side of the bed. The groan he gives her in response almost eclipses her realization that she’s just called it _his_ side, but it’s not quite enough.

He really does look good sleeping on the side of her bed she usually abandons. The bed isn’t quite big enough for him to sprawl out the way she likes to, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s curled up into a little ball—or at least, as little of a ball as his massive body is capable of—and even though she can tell he’s starting to wake up, he doesn’t move.

And she really needs him to.

With her hands newly freed of the pancakes, she places them on his shoulder, and gives his body a firm shake. “Wake up, you little shit.” Another groan. “Come on, I made pancakes. You can’t tell me you don’t love pancakes.”

Through the curtains of hair covering his face, she can see a smile start to break out. “Oh, Rey, we’ve established I’m more of a waffle man.”

She’s going to hit him. She does. Her palm comes down to thwack his bicep as he groans again in protest, raising his arms to defend himself as he rolls onto his back and she keeps half-heartedly smacking him. “You’re a dick.”

“Love you,” he replies, then he brushes the hair out of his face, revealing pink cheeks and an impossibly wide grin as he looks up at her.

There’s something in his eyes that makes her shiver, it always has. He looks at her like she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, or at least, that’s happened to him in a long time. Every time he does it she gets this warm and fuzzy feeling in her gut, and she’s always assumed until now that it’s just a sign of a really good friendship, but she doesn’t get that with anyone else. He’s the only one who makes her feel those butterflies, and now she knows she’s too far gone.

“Love you, too,” she says, though she isn’t sure how much weight to throw behind those words and they wind up coming out a little empty. Clearing her throat, she sits down on the bed beside him, hoping that’s not too intimate a thing to do. “Rose texted me this morning.”

One of his eyebrows quirks. “Oh?”

“Well, she texted me five minutes ago, and… I know you’re a man of many talents.”

“Oh god.”

“Her fiancé’s mother has been sick for a while and recently her condition worsened.” At this, she lets herself give in to the urge to take his hand, wrapping her fingers around his stupidly large palm as his eyes turn sympathetic. “Rose wants to move up the wedding so her future mother in law can be there.”

Nodding eagerly, Ben uses his free hand to push himself into a sitting position. “Okay, so does she want to do December? I can make December work.”

_Oh god._

“No, babe, she wants to do three weeks from now. She wants it in mid-August.”

Frozen. That’s what he becomes when she tells him he has three weeks to throw something together. He’s absolutely frozen. For a couple of seconds, his mouth opens and closes, bobbing like that of a large grouper fish before he bites his lip.

She won’t say it out loud, but she finds it kind of sexy.

“I can’t plan a wedding in three weeks—nothing will be open.”

“Please, Ben, she really needs this. They want her mother to be there.”

He nods. “I know, and I understand, but we won’t be able to find a proper venue. We have no way of possibly arranging everything in time to make it work. Floral arrangements, cakes, a color scheme, invites—“

Rey holds her hands up, causing him to cease his rambling. “Let me invite Rose over here. You’re two of the smartest people I know, I’m sure you can work something out.”

All he gives her is a disbelieving look, then he grumbles something under his breath, looking down at his heavily disheveled suit. He’s considering it, she can tell. Hopefully that’s a good thing, but she has to admit their chances don’t look great. A wedding in three weeks is a lot to try and pull off, but they can do it, right?

The two of them have already become a team, and she likes to think they’re a damn good one. They just need to apply their skills to something other than drinking and having a good time. If they work hard enough, they can do this, and she knows as she looks into Ben’s eyes that he feels this, too.

A smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. “Okay. Invite Rose over, but first, I’m using your shower.”

“You need to eat.”

“I’ll eat after my shower.”

Rolling her eyes, she shrugs. “Sounds all right to me.”

“Great, by the way, I’m also your shampoo.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Winking, he lets go of her hand and rolls away to the other side of the bed, springing up onto his feet a couple of seconds later before he starts to undo the bow tie he’d put on last night. Once it’s loose, he shucks his jacket from his shoulders, then he gestures to Rey’s phone with one hand while the other sets to work on undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Text Rose,” he commands, his voice somehow slipping into an even deeper tone. “And where’s your bathroom?”

Fuck, a heart attack is imminent. “I-it’s the door right behind you.”

“Thanks.” Then he undoes another shirt button, revealing just a sliver of the t-shirt he’s worn underneath, and disappears behind her bathroom door.

It takes her several seconds to calm down, her heart pounding against her sternum so forcefully it must be on the verge of breaking, but she manages. Luckily her head isn’t so far lost in the clouds that she can’t deal it in, but she still allows herself a few seconds to breathe before she opens up her phone, and pulls up her text messages to Rose.

Rose 🌹  
  
So… Ben’s kinda stressed but he’s down to work something out with you. I just need you to come over. It’s the kind of conversation he wants to have face to face.   
  
I can do that.  
  
Epic. Just be warned it’s going to be difficult to plan.  
  
We don’t want much, just something small and memorable.  
  
I know, babe.  
  
Let Ben know I’d be willing to pay extra for the time and effort he’ll spend on this. And that it means a lot.  
  
He’s currently naked in my shower instead of eating the pancakes I made him so that’s gonna have to wait.  
  
I’m sorry—what???????? EXPLAIN.  
  
Calm down lmao he slept in his clothes and he feels gross.  
  
Okay but he’s naked in your fucking shower I—GIRL  
  
I’m trying very hard not to think about it. Very very hard. You’re not helping.  
  
Aight I’ll shut up and make my way over there. Are there enough pancakes for me??  
  
There will be if Ben doesn’t hurry the fuck up with his shower.  
  
Say no more. I’m on my way.  
  
EXCELLENT  
  


*

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock on her door timed almost perfectly with the sound of Ben shutting off the shower. Not wanting to think about him naked and dripping wet all over her floor, she rushes a little too quickly to answer it.

Pink floods her cheeks as they heat, but she doesn’t care, she’s just relieved to see Rose Tico standing on the other side of that door, even if it’s because of an unforeseen tragic circumstance. “Hey there.”

Her best friend says nothing, she just steps in and wraps her arms around Rey’s waist, the door shutting softly behind them as she returns the embrace. In all the stress of the impending wedding planning, she’s nearly forgotten the emotional weight this all carries. Her mind has been so distracted with everything else, she just hasn’t had time to process the news.

Not that her brain can process much anyway—she hardly knows Jannah and she definitely doesn’t know her mother. Most of the tragedy stems from how she feels about the woman in her arms, whom she cares for rather deeply. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but what else can you say?”

A weak laugh vibrates against her shoulder. “Beats me.” Then she pulls back, and the two of them make their way further into the apartment. “But I didn’t come here to talk about doom and gloom, we’re here to plan a wedding, and that’s a happy thing, isn’t it?”

Rey nods as she leads them to her kitchen table. It’s a tiny, barely used little thing. The black top has been gathering dust for a while and the seats are hard to sit on, but it’ll do the job nicely for a conversation or two. Well, she sure hopes it will, though that has more to do with the difficulty of the task ahead than the quality of her table.

Pulling out one of the chairs, she lets her lips part in a smile. “That’s true.” The two of them lower themselves into the seats. “But we can’t do it without Ben.”

Now her coworker is smirking. “And where is Ben?” There’s a knowing, devious edge to her voice, one that instantly sets her mind thinking back to all of the sensual and borderline romantic things she’s thought about him over the past twenty-four hours. “Is he still putting his clothes on?”

“Probably.”

“I can’t believe you let him get naked in your house.”

“Why not? We’re just friends.”

Another knowing look, then the sound of fabric rustling fills her ears as Rose leans forward, and braces her blazer covered elbows on the table. “Mmhmm.” A couple of seconds go by, her head swiveling from left to right before she lowers her voice. “So what happened last night?”

“I told you what bloody happened last night.”

“Okay, but were you guys in bed together?”

“Yes, but—“

“So who’s the big spoon? Who put who in bed?”

“Rose, I _told_ you. He was drunk so I let him crash with me.”

She puts her hands up. “Look, I’m just being nosey, sorry. But you were saying earlier that you started feeling things for him and now you have him naked in your apartment so I’m curious.” A deep exhale leaves her lungs. “Are you okay, though? You sounded scared earlier.”

A nervous laugh fills the air. “I _am_ scared. I’ve been scared since the moment I started realizing things were… not exactly as platonic as I’d hoped.”

Folding her black-sleeved arms over the table, Rose peers curiously at her. “And when was that?”

Before Rey can say another word, she hears the distant sound of someone swearing, then the door to her bathroom is opening, and Ben’s footsteps fill the apartment. “You okay?” she shouts, trying not to laugh as he swears again, the word accompanying the sound of something hitting the floor.

“Fine! I just had to be sure gravity worked.”

“Ah, and does it?”

“Unfortunately.”

Both women at the kitchen table begin to snicker as he walks out of Rey’s bedroom, his raven hair slick with water as he runs a towel through it with one hand, the plate of pancakes balancing precariously in the other. His foul expression only makes them laugh harder, though she is certainly doing it out of nervousness as well as amusement.

Right now, he’s only got on the t-shirt he’d worn beneath his tux and his trousers. Like the one he’d worn on their beach walk the week before, it makes him look stripped-down and domestic. There’s something astoundingly sweet about him in just a t-shirt and trousers, something she wants to soak in like it’s the sun, and _god_ does she hope this is just a phase. Her pride can’t take being proven wrong in such a way.

His wet hair soaking the shoulders of his shirt isn’t doing anything good for her mental health either. All it’s doing is making her wish it would soak somewhere a little further down.

 _Fuck._ She’s going to die and they’ve barely even started yet. On top of that, it’s morning, the day itself hasn’t even started yet. Not properly. They’ve got a lot to get through and she needs to snap herself out of this if they’re going to pull this off.

She barely registers the stack of pancakes being placed on the center of the table, nor does she catch her new friend grabbing hold of one like a cookie and biting into it. She’s almost too far zoned out to notice him speaking, but luckily, she catches it, and the process of moving on from her daydream-like state begins.

“So—“ Ben begins, drawing her back to reality as he slings the towel around his shoulders, then he pulls one of the chairs out from the table, and sits on it backwards, straddling the damned thing as he gives her a smile that’s far too innocent for the thoughts it sends to her brain. “Where do we start?”


	14. Night Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the LEAST edited chapter of this fic ever but oh well. I’m posting this on my 15 minute break at work (which is why I haven’t been posting as much lately I’m trying to make moneyyyy)

Wedding planning is a fucking nightmare. For the first half an hour, Ben, bless him, tries his best to tell Rose what he can and cannot do, and to her credit, she tries to lower her expectations, but it isn’t enough.

With a deadline of only three weeks, there simply won’t be a venue open. No one will take them. Ben has pulled some strings to get them on waiting lists in case anyone drops out or cancels their plans for a wedding, but it’s extremely unlikely.

According to him, incidents like the one that led them to meet are incredibly rare. It’s a little disheartening to hear, but it also fills her heart with a strange sense of hope and joy that their meeting had happened in spite of how unlikely it was.

 _Almost as if it were destiny,_ Rey’s irritating mind thinks, and she nearly smacks herself upside the head for thinking such a thing. Destiny is not real, it can’t be. But she’d thought love wasn’t real, too, and she’s starting to doubt that--no, not starting--she already _does_ doubt it.

Doubt has sewn itself in her head like some fucked up stitch on a quilt and she hates it. She misses the time when life was certain and things felt black and white, but in hindsight that almost feels more like a dream. None of it feels real now, because everything seems so clear.

Those feelings she now harbors for him aren’t entirely scary, after all. There’s a part of them that’s wonderful, that makes her feel magnificent and like she’s walking on air. It’s almost fantasy-like, the way she thinks about him sometimes, and as the days begin to pass and they spend more of their spare time working on Rose’s wedding, she starts to get used to it.

While she isn’t brave enough to tell him yet and risk everything, she’s starting to feel less like a deer in headlights and more adjusted to how it feels to fall for him. It’s still weird, but it’s like going noseblind to a smell; logically, she knows it’s there, but it isn’t driving her crazy anymore.

Or rather, it wasn’t.

One night about a week in, she invites him over just for a break, to hang out. They’ve managed to compromise on a location—a brief ceremony and pictures on the beach followed by a reception in Rose and Jannah’s backyard a few blocks away—and the brides have agreed to use grocery store flowers for floral arrangements. They’ve taken a couple of massive steps in the direction of getting this wedding planned—actually three, since Ben somehow managed to get them a dress fitting at a shop down the road from the local mall—and they’ve earned the right to just sit down and relax for a night.

Well, they’ll be sitting down and relaxing if she can still her beating heart. It won’t stop racing every time he texts her, every time he asks what kind of pizza she wants or what drinks to bring. _Fuck,_ she has it bad. Her mind keeps coming back to that song from _Hercules,_ the one where Meg declares that she won’t say she’s in love and then at the end concedes that she will admit it to herself but never out-loud. That’s about where she’s at.

Internally, she knows exactly what she’s starting to feel for ben, but externally, it will remain a mystery. It must remain a mystery, their friendship’s continued existence depends on it.

Ben  
  
Hey can you put pineapples on the pizza if it’s not too late?  
  
...  
  
LISTEN don’t knock it till you try it.  
  
no no I’m saying holy shit I love pineapples on pizza and where have you been all my life?  
  
Oh???? How did we not know this about each other before now??  
  
Because we were stupid. Anyway. I’ll put pineapples on the pizza.  
  
mmffffff if you’re not married by 40 would you mind marrying me like… platonically?  
  
I thought you didn’t believe in marriage 🤔  
  
I believe platonic soulmates are a thing and besides. Tax benefits????  
  
Why are you like this?  
  
😘  
  
Now that’s not very platonic is it?  
  
You’re a dick.  
  
But you like it.  
  


God, they need to stop flirting like this. She isn’t meant to survive flirting like this with him, but somehow it keeps happening, almost like… no.

Maybe she should invite him over for a one night stand sometime. Maybe all this is just because she’s horny and needs to rub one out. For that, she really could just use her fucking vibrator and call it a night--she could probably even be done before Ben gets here with the pizza, but…

 _No._ Masturbating while thinking of him is probably the last thing she needs, the last straw that will break her in the process of falling in love with him. It isn’t that she’s masturbated to people she’s been attracted to before, but something about doing it with him--

 _You’ve had enough thoughts about fucking him already, though,_ her mind supplies, and she knows it’s right. There really isn’t anything wrong with her doing this. People have fantasies all the time, and maybe it’ll get some of the heat off her chest, maybe by the time he gets here she will have calmed down and managed to get herself together.

Leaning back on her bed, Rey wets her lips with her tongue, biting the lower one before she lets her hand start wandering due south, fingertips ghosting over the fabric of her t-shirt along the way. Her eyes stare pointedly at the ceiling, as if she can’t watch what she’s doing or she’ll have to face the reality of it.

Not that she’s ashamed, she just needs to get this done as quickly as possible. It’s about a five minute drive from the pizza place Ben’s at to her apartment, and they move fast. As a result, she too will need to move quickly.

Fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her trousers, she takes a deep, staggering breath, not letting all of it out until her middle finger brushes over her clit. _Fuck,_ when was the last time she’d done this? It’s been so long she almost can’t remember. Between work, Ben, and all their weddings, she’s just not had the time to think about this.

It didn’t even happen after the incident on the beach, so the fact that it’s happening now? She’s really deep in it, isn’t she?

Slowly, she begins to move her fingers, one pressing gently into her entrance as her thumb rubs circles into her clit, swirling around it as she sighs her contentment. For a moment, everything else leaves her brain, and all there is is _this_ , this feeling of pure bliss, this building wave that will soon crash onto shore and wash over her in a beautiful, devastating end.

Her mind comes back to that moment they’d shared on the beach, almost living it out in slow motion the way they’d stumbled up the sand. She can see the rays of sunlight in his hair, making it almost shine like bronze as he falls on top of her, feel the warmth of his body as it presses into hers.

Moving her hand a bit faster, she slips in a second finger as she remembers how he’d looked at her, how he’d whispered her name, how many times she’s thought about that moment since then. The way she feels now, she knows she can’t ever come back from it, from any of it, and it had started long before this moment, but she’d never been so aware of it before then.

Now she can see his eyes in the sunlight, feel the wave starting to wash over them, brushing over their feet, their calves, their thighs, up and up and up until it reaches their hips. She can feel his erection at her clit, his body just as on fire as hers is, begging to be touched, to release what he’s holding back.

Rey’s release is coming soon, she can feel it as the wave in her memory--which is fast becoming a fantasy--move further over them, but neither seems to notice. They’re both too lost, their eyes too locked onto the one thing they want the most. At least, she hopes she’s the thing he wants the most, or at least someone he wants in general.

The wave advances regardless, and as her fingers move faster, she finds herself begging for it, whispering his name aloud as he leans down, his lips ghosting gently over hers as the wave swallows them whole. For a few seconds, they’re sinking, drowning, lost in the salt and the spray, the white and the blue, but it doesn’t feel suffocating. It feels like bliss.

And seconds later, it finally happens. She comes with a shout, wordless and loud, likely enough to wake her neighbors, but she doesn’t care.

It’s the hardest she’s come in her fucking life.

In the end, she’s left gasping for air, her whole body quivering as her fingers continue their ministrations through her orgasm. Everything is white--no, not white, _orange and rose gold,_ like the setting sun in her daydream. That sun is slipping beneath the horizon now, setting on the memory and on her brief moment in which she’s allowed herself to fall apart.

All of it comes to rest with a sigh, her hands flopping back onto the mattress as if she’s put them up, her chest heaving with each and every breath. She feels like she’s run a marathon, but instead of feeling exhausted and on the verge of passing out, she’s awake, alive, and floating through the air blissfully.

Until the phone pings again with another text message, and her eyes, previously closed, shoot open like rockets. How long has she been lost? How much time has passed while she’s been losing herself to the feeling of her own hand against her cunt?

She doesn’t know, she almost doesn’t _want_ to know, but still, when she checks the time and sees that she hasn’t actually let more than ten minutes go by, she feels relieved. Then she sees Ben’s texts and a furious blush rises to her cheeks.

And not even because he’s said anything particularly filthy.

Ben  
  
I’ve almost got the pizza, they’re about to bring it out.  
  
PIZZA ACQUIRED  
  
You ready for me?  
  
Yeah, definitely. Get your ass over here.  
  
Just my ass?  
  
I’m going to kill you.  
  
Or did you want other parts of me, too?  
  
So killing you.  
  
Kill me when I get there, I’m busy juggling our pizza right now, I hope it can wait.  
  
Fine, I’ll kill you after we’ve had pizza. See you soon.  
  
See you.  
  


Now it is because he’s said something filthy. _Or did you want other parts of me, too?_ rings loud and clear in her mind, repeating like a mantra. It’s the only thing she can think about anymore, and she has _maybe_ five minutes before he gets here. It is an impossibly short drive from the pizza place to hers, one that has never seemed shorter than it does now.

And her fingers still smell remarkably like her cunt. She can smell them now as she brings them in front of her face.

There’s so much to do before he gets here, so much to prepare for, and so little time. Without allowing herself another thought, she hurries to her feet, rushing into her bathroom to wash her hands and maybe put on some eyeliner. She may feel rather ridiculous right now, but that doesn’t mean she has to look like it.

*

Ben arrives about five minutes later, almost five minutes on the dot. The knock comes when she’s putting on the left wing of her eyeliner, her hand struggling not to shake as she draws the surprisingly straight line. She’s just finished with it and begun drawing on the line of her eye, when she suddenly jumps.

There’s a brief moment where panic rushes through her and she thinks she’s fucked the whole thing up, but then she sees the damage is minor, and with a relieved exhale, she finishes the job, and sets down the pencil. “Coming!” she announces, then she makes her way from her bedroom, and heads to the front door.

“Too late, I live here now. Outside. Might want to come out here and--”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” she replies as she opens the door. He’s standing there with a goofy smile on his face and a pizza in his hand. “Get in here.”

Keeping the food in mind, she then yanks on the fabric of a stupid, old Georgia Tech sweatshirt--it’s yellow and the navy letters that spell out the school’s name are faded, but it looks cute on him even if he’s definitely had it for the better part of a decade--and pulls him inside. The sound of his laughter as he stumbles in makes her feel a sense of overwhelming joy, which makes sense, since it’s become one of her favorite sounds, and once the smell of pizza hits her nose, she moans her satisfaction out loud.

Hopefully it doesn’t sound as sexual to him as it does to her. “Fuck, that smells so good.”

“No eating until we get to your kitchen.”

“Oh come on.”

“Yes.”

“You’re boring.”

All he does is snicker as they walk into her kitchen together, then he sets down the pizza, placing it atop her counter just before she reaches to open it. Sure enough, as he’d promised, there are pineapples and ham all over it. A thin layer of grease shines over the cheese and thick crust, just the way she likes it, just the way she’s always liked it.

A grin parts her lips as she steals the first slice, wincing as the heat burns her fingertips for a second before she adjusts to the temperature. “You know where my plates are yet?”

“You told me last week when Rose came over.”

“Right,” she mutters quietly to herself, taking a bite of her pizza as she watches him make his way over to the cabinet, and pull out a couple of paper plates without being asked. _Fuck._ “How’s your day been?”

An amused snort. “You’ve been texting me all day, you know.”

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between how you come off in texting versus how you actually are. So how are you?”

For a moment, he pauses, taking a second to look at her as he places the plate down on the countertop in front of her, then he’s grinning back at her, his lips full, red, and delightfully happy. Reaching across the table, he even takes her hand, just playing with her fingers for a moment before he looks up to answer. “I’m even better now,” he says softly, then he releases her hand, and makes his way to the other side of the counter. “Let’s go sit. I’d like to spend an evening with you where we don’t get drunk for once.”

“We weren’t drunk at Waffle House.”

“We were hungover.”

“Okay, fair point.”

“I make a lot of those.”

“ _Prick._ We weren’t drunk on the beach that one time.”

His voice drops lower, a smile parting his lips. “We also weren’t alone.”

A chill runs down her spine, the room growing cold even though the Savannah summer keeps her apartment hot at all times. No amount of air conditioning can keep her cool normally, but right now, she feels as if she’s entered the bone-chilling atmosphere of a Minnesota winter. No, no they weren’t alone the last time they were sober together. They are now.

She won’t let herself think about why he might be so excited that they’re alone. She won’t. The odds that he actually wants the same thing she thinks she’s starting to want are fucking slim, and she doesn’t want to give him the wrong idea prematurely, so she stays silent, and takes her pizza slice into the living room, listening to the loud padding of his feet down the hall behind her.

“So,” she murmurs, attempting to keep her voice and overall demeanor as casual as possible. “What do we watch first?”

Ben shrugs, then he takes his spot on her sofa, resting casually against the arm of the chair as she sits beside him, curling her feet beneath her as he nudges her thigh with one of his. Though it makes her eyes roll back in her head, a part of her enjoys it, loves the simple intimacy of it. Tiny little touches are a love language of their own, though they can be either platonic or otherwise, and which of those this is she can’t tell.

“I think we should watch the stupidest romcom we can find and then stuff ourselves on this pizza until we pass out,” he says after a while, bringing her back to reality with a start.

“That sounds stupid.”

“But you want to?”

“Yeah,” she replies, reaching for her remote as she takes a bite of her pizza. “I do.”

She loves that idea, actually. She loves him a bit, too, she knows. Maybe it isn’t an all consuming “let’s get married,” love yet but it’s love in some form. They’re falling, her and him--at least, she hopes it’s the both of them--but the universe only knows who is going to hit the ground first.


	15. Twenty Seven Dresses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. I worked ten days in a row and had no time to write at all. Hopefully that'll change soon :D

For the most part, movie night with Ben is everything she’s dreamed it would be. They’re laughing so hard they’re crying at romantic comedies and she’s utterly enthralled with _Stardust_ , but they keep sitting far enough apart on the damned sofa that she’s going crazy with wanting to touch him.

That’s not strictly a romantic thing either. Sometimes, Rey just likes physical contact. It feels good, comforting, and warm, and she thinks right now, regardless of the feelings she has for him, she kind of just wants to be held.

Slowly, right in the middle of _Revenge of the Bridesmaids_ , she shifts a little closer to him, breath catching slightly in her throat before she rests her head on his shoulder, and sighs as he lets her relax into him. That feels nice, almost nice enough for her to want to hold his arm in her hands, but she won’t go that far just yet.

Baby steps, that’s what she needs in a time like this, to take everything one inch at a time.

Eventually, she hears Ben chuckle, and she knows it has nothing to do with the movie. “What’s so funny?”

“We’ve woken up cuddling several times now--”

She holds up a finger. “No, it’s happened only twice.”

“Okay, but still. You can lean on me if you want to. I think we’re on that level now.” Then his hand shifts, turning over so that it can wrap around hers, and their fingers lace together naturally. “It’s just comfortable. I get it.”

A big and stupid grin makes itself known on her face as she leans further into him, then she hums contentedly as his warmth mixes with her own. It’s a fuzzy sort of feeling, being held by him--fuzzy and not at all unpleasant--and she finds she never wants to let him go. Every day should be like this; just them on the couch, watching movies and cuddling.

 _God,_ so much has changed since they met in that bar. It’s only been a matter of weeks, but she’s already shifted her entire perspective on life. Everything feels different now, brighter, and it’s not quite as scary as she’d once thought it would be. Once upon a time, falling for someone was her biggest fear, but something about him makes her feel safe. She can trust him, and not only that, but she knows she can, it’s not just that she’s fallen into some unknown, but she can see the end of the tunnel and that light is no hellfire.

“You’re fantastic, you know,” she whispers quietly, nuzzling gently into his shoulder. “I’m so glad I met you.”

“Me too,” he says.

They both giggle in the aftermath, then Rey swallows. “Hey, would you mind being my moral support when I’m trying on a bridesmaid’s dress tomorrow?”

He snorts. “It’s just a dress, Rey.”

“Yeah, but it’s _the_ dress.” She holds up a finger. “Wait, I lied, Rose’s dress is _the_ dress. But mine’s important, I have to get it right. Best friend’s wedding, I don’t want to mess it up.”

At this, he gives an understanding hum, then he shifts, turning to face her as the movie becomes nothing but background noise. Her heart begins to pound immediately, her body leaning into his so that they’re awfully fucking close. They’ve never been this close--except for that time on the beach--and it makes her shiver when his eyes wander down briefly, then flicker back up. “I think that’d be very hard for you to do.”

“You’re a flirt and a menace,” she tells him, leaning back a little bit so she can look at his face properly. “No, I meant… I just want to make sure it’s perfect. She gave me a color and now I’ve got to pick something. So, I’m dragging you to Savannah Mall once we’re awake enough to leave this apartment.”

“I can work with that.”

“And I need you to be serious, this is very important.”

“Rey, I plan weddings for a living, I’m planning the wedding you’re picking this dress for. It’ll be fine.” He rests his free hand over the one that’s joined with hers. “You’re going to find something, and it’ll look amazing.”

Her heart is going to give out any second now at the rate it’s going, but she manages to give him a nod. “Thanks, Ben.”

“And I already have an idea for the fifth wedding.”

Left eyebrow quirking up, she pulls back to look at him. “Oh?”

“I won’t tell you what it is until we get there, but if somehow you’re not convinced by now that I’m right, I think this will convince you.” A smirk blossoms on his face, becoming more obvious with every word he speaks. “I’m going to win this bet.”

 _You are, but I won’t tell you that,_ her traitorous mind thinks. It quickly becomes distracted by how deep his voice sounds when he says this, by how quiet and soft-spoken it is. The way he talks to her sometimes, it’s almost as if he knows just how attractive she finds him, as if he’s _trying_ to turn her on. Just casual conversation with him sometimes feels like an odd sort of seduction. “We’ll see,” she whispers back to him, then their attention falls back on the movie they’re watching, though she doesn’t remember anything about the plot, and as a result of their conversation…

She doesn’t exactly pay attention to what happens next either.

*

The next morning, they wake up together on the couch. She doesn’t remember falling asleep, but that’s not exactly abnormal--no one ever does. Still, it’s not something she does often, and now they’ve got to go shopping with sore necks and bags under their eyes. Always a fun thing, shopping while exhausted, but she’s got to do it.

A breakfast made of slightly overcooked eggs and bacon follows shortly after--both of which becoming overcooked solely because they got distracted in a debate over what salad dressing was best--and it also isn’t great, but she’s so excited she doesn’t care. She’s not even sure why she’s so excited, but every time she gets to spend time with him, especially the times when she’s not attending weddings, she adores.

Maybe this is just some dumb shopping trip, but he’s one of her favorite people. Of course she’s thrilled by the prospect of spending more time with him.

They head out just before noon, taking his car so he can drop her off and drive home later. His car also has better windshield wipers than hers, and given that it starts raining the second they decide to leave, that also helps pick their ride. It has the added bonus of smelling like him, too, so she’s certainly not complaining.

 _Fuck, she has it bad._ This is definitely more than just some small crush and there’s no denying it. All she can do is ride it out, even if she can hear Rose’s voice whispering quietly in her head that she needs to tell him how she feels.

She’ll get around to it eventually, she just has to shed her fear first.

“You better ask them to double bag whatever you end up getting,” Ben tells her as they pull into the mall parking lot, the rain pounding on the windshield only becoming more intense as the seconds tick on. “This is one hell of a storm.”

“I know.” She frowns. “I don’t think I brought an umbrella either, do you?”

“No. Do you want to go back?”

Honestly, they should. The weather’s shit and with how unpredictable it tends to be, she’ll probably walk out and have whatever dress she finds immediately swept up by a tornado. Still, she’s only got two weeks and only so much free time between work and helping Rose plan the actual wedding. Her dress is such a small part of all this that she _does_ need to get this done.

They can handle a bit of bad weather. They’ll only get soaked a little bit at worst, right?

Rey shakes her head. “We can handle it. Just run, okay?” she asks, then she gives him a nervous smile, looking between the man weaving between the rows of parking spots and the rain outside. “Fast as you can.”

All he gives her in response is a chuckle, then he pulls into a parking space that’s as close to the mall as they can possibly get save for the handicapped spots. They’re maybe fifty feet away, sixty at most, but given the torrential downpour, she thinks it might as well be a hundred. Either way, they’re going to be soaked by the time they walk through those doors. “I guess we’ll manage.”

“We’d better.”

The engine goes quiet once he puts the car in park, the only sound being that of the rain pouring down on the roof of the car above them. For a couple of seconds in the aftermath, they just look at each other, both holding their breath as smiles slowly part their lips, then they both push open their doors, and run out into the downpour.

Immediately, her entire body is hit with a sheet of cold, wet rain. It isn’t a gentle trickle, it isn’t even an ordinary deluge, it’s a full on fucking shower. She’s stepped under the shower, her entire body drenched in cold water before she can even round the rear of his car. Both of them are shrieking, loud whoops of laughter leaving their lungs as they cross the street at a breakneck speed.

It’s the fastest she’s ever moved, but it probably keeps her just a touch drier. By the time they throw open the doors to the mall, they’re somehow more soaked than they were when the wave had washed over them at Hux and Phasma’s wedding, but they care less this time.

Last time, they were too distracted by the odd sort of tension that had fallen over them. This time it’s funny, both of them are shaking with joyous laughter, their hands resting on their shoulders as they drip on the floor. It doesn’t leave her feeling as breathless, but she enjoys it nonetheless.

“I think we’re going to have to wait a minute before we walk in,” he says after a minute, looking through the glass doors that separate the entrance from the rest of the mall. “We’ll get thrown out in seconds and every janitor in there is going to fucking hate us.”

“I think you may be right.”

A giggle leaves him then, but this time, she’s not quite sure what’s so funny. One of her eyebrows begins to rise, lifting higher until it’s caused a series of creases leading all the way up to her hairline. Before she can ask him what’s so funny, though, he gives her a lopsided grin, then leans down as if to whisper in her ear. “This would be the second time I’ve gotten you wet.”

Rey is on the brink of collapse. _It’s technically the third in a way, but since last night was by hand does it really count?_ He’s going to kill her, and she’s going to be whisked away in an ambulance at any minute. “Christ, you’re a flirt,” she manages after a couple of seconds, mentally high fiving herself for not stuttering or otherwise acting flustered.

“Focus on drying off.” He lifts the loose fabric of her shirt sleeve from her arm, watching with a wince as it drips water loudly on the floor. “Not that there’s much we can do aside from just stand here another minute.”

“Sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Hey, don’t be, I agreed to come. We could’ve just spent a little more time in your place waiting for the storm to pass, yeah, but we’re here now.”

“That we are.”

“Let’s give it one more minute then we’ll go in.”

She nods. “I’m good with that.”

A second or two ticks by, then Ben holds up a finger. “What are you looking for exactly? Long? Short? Something with floral patterns on it or solid color?”

“Well, we both know it has to be pink to fit with the theme of the wedding.”

“Of course.”

“Let’s just start with all the pink dresses and go from there.”

Ben squeezes one last drop of water from his now messy hair, then straightens and gestures toward the mall. “Let’s do it.”

Though she isn’t sure of it at first, she places her hand in his. Both of them wait until he laces their fingers together before she pushes open the door, and they walk into the mall still significantly more damp than they were when they left her apartment.

*

Trying on dresses is a, well, _trying_ affair. For once, she actually struggles to find anything pink, or at least, anything she _likes._ Some of the dresses are too short or tight, some have too many ruffles--and not in a classy, Hermione Granger at the Yule Ball way either--and others just look a little too much like something Maz would wear.

Still, she manages to find a few. There are four dresses she’s selected for Rose’s wedding, four potential options for how she’s going to look when she helps her best friend walk down the aisle. None of them feel perfect, but the bride isn’t the type to be picky. She’s far from a bridezilla, thank the gods.

The first dress is probably the most casual of the four, even if it is the longest. The hem trails the floor--to the point where she knows it would do so even in heels, and she’s not sure whether or not it would work without being hemmed. It’s pretty, though, with a v-neck line that plunges low between her breasts and a slit up the side that’s guarded only by a secure tie around her waist. Blush-pink, but sheer ruffles make the sleeves, which cut off just beyond her shoulders, but it’s flattering.

Probably the best part of it though, is how Ben reacts. When she steps out of the dressing room to show him, he leans back in his chair, taking a second to look her up and down. At first, he almost looks kind of bored, like she had when she first put on the dress and examined herself in the mirror, but then she lifts the slit to the side, and sticks out her thigh.

A sarcastic, but humorous wolf-whistle ensues, one she has no doubt the entire store can hear, and she’s quick to shush him.

“Ben, you can’t do that, they’ll throw us out!”

“Oh come on, Rey, have a little fun.”

“We are grown adults, Solo, we’re not allowed to have fun,” she says as she wanders back into the dressing room, then she turns, shrugging a little to herself, and adds, “Well, maybe a little fun.”

Dress number two is pretty clearly not it either. This one is off shoulder, which she can sometimes pull off, but she can _feel_ that the waistband is a little too loose around her waist and the little sticky things they sometimes put at the bustline of dresses aren’t strong enough to keep the dress covering her tits. It’s a pretty thing, but it’s not going to happen, even if the skirt would look gorgeous when she twirls.

Groaning, she lets her head rest back against the wall for a couple of seconds. “This isn’t the one.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit too, uh, revealing.”

She can fucking hear him snickering as the audible sound of him leaning back in the chair ensues. “It’s definitely the dress, then.”

If he keeps flirting with her like this, Rey is going to die. She’s going to die a painful, depraved death and it’s going to be all his fault. He’s too much of a flirt for his own good sometimes, a fact which has become more obvious the longer she’s friends with him. They’re more comfortable around each other now, which means they’re exposing all sorts of facets of their personalities they don’t normally give away upon a first meeting.

Including flirting.

“Christ, Ben,” she mutters, then she moves on to try the next dress, hoping this one isn’t going to be as much of a dud as dress one and two.

Of course, dress three has the same problem as dress two. It’s completely off the shoulders, and while it’s slightly more secure around the bust area, it just feels wrong. There’s a nice, vintage sort of aura to it, but it’s a more purple hued pink and it doesn’t feel like it’ll fit the vibe that’s on Rose’s wedding invitations. She wants to fit the theme, and this isn’t a rosey pink, it’s more… dawn pink.

Which leads her to the final dress, a pretty, tulle laced number with gold sequin scattered throughout the skirt and bodice. This one has the added bonus of having straps, but not super thin ones so she can wear a bra with it if she wants to. There’s a cute little belt around the waist area, too, adding a sense of security and snugness that makes her feel much more comfortable than she had in the previous three dresses. The zipper’s kind of stubborn though, giving her a good two minutes of grief before she finally gets it off. Still, it’s really nice, and it’s not heinously over budget so she’ll give it a chance.

This is probably the one, but she wants the approval of her second best friend.

Stepping out of the dressing room, she gives him a little twirl, holding her arms up for the finish as she gestures to what will hopefully be the grand finale in their dress shopping adventures. “What do you think?”

Ben stands up for this one, looking her appreciatively up and down as his mouth shifts in that way it always does when she can’t quite tell what he’s thinking. She’s not sure if he likes it, hates it, or if he thinks nothing of it until he smiles, giving her a proud nod as he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s the one.”

The corners of her mouth twitch up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect, you’ll knock them dead.”

A blush rises to Rey’s cheeks, then she turns around, and gestures to the zipper, turning her head to meet his eyes over her shoulder. “Mind getting this started? It was kind of a pain in the ass to get up.”

Ben’s eyes widen for a second, then he steps closer, and she swears she can see his hands trembling as he reaches up, and grasps the zipper in his too large fingers. Both of them gasp slightly when he accidentally brushes her bare back, and if her heart wasn’t pounding before, it is now. It’s galloping like a fucking race horse, her blood pressure rising impossibly high as he gives it a gentle tug, and the zipper begins wandering down the line.

The back of his knuckle ghosts gently over her skin all the while. His skin is warm, impossibly warm to the point where it almost feels hot, but she shivers under that touch, wondering what it would be like if he touched her other places, if he made her putty in his hands. What if he did? Would he be good at it? Would he make her sing like in a fantasy or would it be shockingly disappointing? 

Looking at Ben Solo, she doesn't think disappointing is in his vocabulary, and that's a frightening prospect, too. It's terrifying, actually, and as he guides the zipper to the bottom, she still wishes he'd just push her into that dressing room and help her take the rest of it off. 

If only that could be how reality works. 

The room is so quiet in the aftermath that she can hear a fucking pin drop, that she might just be able to hear _his_ heartbeat mixing with hers, and that scares her more than anything. “It’s d-done,” he says quietly, his voice shaky and a little choked as he steps back, and resumes his position against the wall, feigning nonchalance rather poorly as he gestures to the dressing room. “You’re good to go.”

“Th-thanks,” she replies, her voice equally unsteady as she steps inside, and closes the door, barely registering any sight, sound, or feeling as she begins to rid herself of her bridesmaid’s dress, and puts on her normal clothing.

He was affected by her request, by being asked to help remove her clothing. His hands had been just as unsteady as hers, just as shaky, and his breathing had been just as uneven. Everything matched her beat for beat, and that scares her more than anything, because it’s one thing to have feelings for someone that she can just ride out and wait until they either pass or lead somewhere, but it’s another for things to escalate one step further.

It’s another thing entirely for her to have to face the possibility that he might have feelings for her, too, that he might want her as badly as she wants him, or that he might just have felt something for her all along and she’s been oblivious to it.

Unless it’s just a theory. Unless it’s not what he feels at all and it’s in her head. Or is it?


	16. Stag Night Part I

All the details begin to fall into place after that. They find sets of chairs--unfortunately mismatched, but it’s a small price to pay for everything else they’re getting--that will provide the audience with a place to sit. Ben gets grocery store flowers on pre-order, which will also be mismatched, as they’re different species, but the colors will be similar and that’s good enough for the brides.

Rey begins to feel excited as the remaining days pass, finding that helping her two best friends plan a wedding is much more fun than she’d thought it would be. Whether or not they’ll be together forever, she still has no idea, but she likes to think they’ll last, she _hopes_ they’ll last. Her time with her wedding planning new friend has certainly taught her that there’s a reason people like to try.

Maybe Rose and Jannah are one of those few exceptions who go to the grave together. She already knows she’s lost the bet on whether or not love exists, but whether or not she’s lost the argument on marriage is still up in the air. Lately, though, she is perfectly okay with the thought of surrender.

Sometimes a fight just isn’t worth it, and sometimes the reasons are plain wrong.

When there’s two days until the wedding, she and Ben move the items they’ve bought into a little shed in her friend’s backyard, filling it with all the string lights, chairs, and tables they found for the reception. They’re tangled up in ribbons and plastic by the end of it, but eventually, they high-five their victory, making their way out of the shed as their client comes out to greet them.

Rey has today off, Rose, unfortunately, does not, hindering her ability to help put together her own wedding until now, when she’s finally been released from work. “Amilyn drive you crazy?” she asks, causing her friend’s eyes to roll as she joins them at the front of the shed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh, just a little. We resorted the file cabinets.”

Unable to help the wince that forms on her face, she laughs. “Sorry, guess I picked a bad day to take off.”

“No, no, you didn’t, I’m really glad you guys got this done, it means a lot.” Resting a reassuring hand on Rey’s arm, she looks back toward the shed, whose open doors reveal all the decor they’ve just spent the last couple of hours carefully unloading. “God, this is awesome.”

“It’s not ready yet,” Ben protests.

She shakes her head. “Oh, I know, but I just like seeing it. Makes everything feel real, you know?” Walking inside, the grin on her face only grows bigger, her eyes lighting up with a glow that’s started to become familiar to Rey since she met the wedding planner standing beside her. “Only two more days.”

Now Ben’s the one fighting back a grin as he leans against the doorframe of the shed, the white of his t-shirt all but shining in the sunlight, providing a fierce glare she can still see even as she turns away. “What are you gonna do in the meantime?” The corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk. “You planned a bachelorette party or anything?”

Eyes growing wide, Rose’s jaw falls slack, her head slowly moving from side to side as she looks between them. “Shit, I haven’t. I--I just haven’t had the time. Should I do one?”

“You should celebrate if you want to. Last chance to run wild and all that.”

“Being married doesn’t stop you from having fun.”

Rey would beg to differ, but she remains silent, watching the two of them start getting excited about her friend’s stag night. “Maybe not, but it’s a time honored tradition and a damn fun one, so what do you say? It can be as simple as going to a bar.”

“Oh, so a normal night out then?” Rose says, causing her to snort as a blush rises to Ben’s cheeks.

“Could also involve strippers.”

Nose wrinkling, she waves her hand in the air dismissively. “Nah, not really my thing. I think we should all just go out for drinks.” Then she looks the two of them up and down, sniffing the air with another wince. “And you two should change and shower.”

Now Rey’s the one scoffing. “Oh come on, we don’t smell that bad.” Sniffing herself curiously, she blinks in surprise. “Okay, maybe we do.”

“Yeah, so go home, get changed, then one of you pick me up and we’ll do a stag night at your mom’s cantina.”

It sounds lovely, a night of casual drinking--she probably won’t get drunk if they’re just going to her mom’s cantina, but still--and talking; all to celebrate Rose’s impending nuptials. Honestly it’s the ideal evening anyway, and though she originally intended to just go home and nap after this, she finds the prospect of spending more time with her two favorite people inviting, excitement rising inside of her with each passing second.

Looking at Ben, the way he’s now grinning makes her think he feels the same way. He doesn’t know the bride like she does, but they’ve gotten to know one another a little better over the last three weeks--and she likes to think that they’ve become friends, too, that the little triangle connecting the three of them is now complete. “I like that plan. We do stink.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” she mutters, grimacing as she sniffs herself one more time just to be sure. “Let’s get gone then. Rose, we’ll see you at my mum’s at eight?”

She gives them two thumbs up. “Perfect."

“See you tonight.” Her voice takes on a song-like tone at the end, then she reaches out a hand, grabbing hold of Ben’s arm before dragging him away from the shed. “Come on, you.”

Grumbling quietly under his breath, he lets her guide him along, the grumbles becoming a series of quiet, contented hums as he strides casually by her side. Together, they make their way through Rose’s house, Rey grabbing her things--just a jean jacket and her wallet--before they head out into the driveway toward her car. “Wait, did she say I was invited?”

“Yeah, she did, why?” Throwing open her car door, she narrowed her eyes in confusion as he did the same, the two of them sliding into the vehicle in perfect sync. “Never been to a stag night before?”

“No, no, I have, just usually it’s a bachelor party. Every other lesbian wedding I’ve attended they usually just didn’t invite me.”

“Ah, I see,” she says, turning the keys in the ignition before she grabs hold of her seatbelt, a quiet, high-pitched zooming sound filling her ears for a second before she buckles it shut. “Well, you probably weren’t as close to the other brides as you are to this one.”

Ben chuckles. “I’m mostly just close to you.”

A shiver runs down her spine even though it’s September and the weather’s still fairly hot. He shouldn’t have this kind of affect on her, all he’s saying is that he’s closest to her because they’re friends, but it makes her picture all the times they _have_ been physically close. Over the past two weeks since they’d picked her dress, they’ve cuddled a few more times--well, slept in her bed together and woken up cuddling, but it’s the same fucking thing--and on top of that, the memory of what happened on the beach at the last wedding they went to is all too vivid, all too present in her mind.

He haunts her in the best way, and he doesn’t even know it.

The laughter she gives him in return is nervous. “Maybe so, but you and I bonded quickly, it’s the same with you and Rose.”

“Almost, yeah,” he replies, and _fuck,_ her mind is already spinning wondering what that means. What is almost in this context? She could ask him to elaborate, could put her mind at ease now rather than later, but she’s scared to. Odds are, he won’t give her the answer she’s looking for and she’ll just spend time pining miserably and falling back into being convinced love doesn’t exist.

For the time being, she’s going to let herself pretend there’s a chance, because maybe there is, but if there isn’t, she’s not ready to know that yet. Until she is, every hint that she might have feelings for him must remain hidden from view, from his knowledge or anyone else’s besides Rose.

“Fair enough,” she says simply, then she pulls the car out of the driveway, and together, they head out on the road.

*

Ben 💖  
  
Hey, so I… Got a quick question  
  
It might be kind of stupid.  
  
I’m sure it’s not that bad.  
  
Eh, maybe not, but still  
  
Just shoot.  
  
Did Rose ever specify a dress code or are we just going out in whatever? Cause I accidentally put on my pajamas and uhhhh can you attend a bachelorette party in your pajamas or is that a cardinal sin?  
  
...Oh my god  
  
Like I said, stupid  
  
Nah it isn’t, my only question is how the fuck you “accidentally” put on pyjamas??  
  
Forgot what we were doing for a second when I got out of the shower. It’s just a pair of sweatpants but still.  
  
I’m sure she’d be fine with it but personally I think you’d be better off wearing jeans. Sweatpants do your ass no favors.  
  
You’ve been looking at my ass?  
  
Bad habit.  
  
I see. 😏  
  
Just listen to me, you twat. I’ll see you soon?  
  
Will you check out my ass again when I get there?  
  
I shouldn’t have said that.  
  
Too late  
  
You suck, you suck so bad.  
  
You say that to me a lot.  
  
MMM maybe I have a reason to 👀  
  
Very funny. See you soon pervert.  
  


God, she hates him sometimes. He’s the most delightful human being she knows, but god, is he irritating. Ben Solo operates with one brain cell that’s trying its absolute best not to let him die, and she loves him for it--him and all of his dumb questions.

Something as mundane as asking whether sweatpants are okay for a stag night has just made her heart race, though, so maybe she is the one without a brain cell. Her brain is good for lawyering and lawyering only, it seems. Not maintaining friendships and handling the rest of adult life, just being a lawyer.

Still, as she grabs her car keys and prepares to head out for the night, she finds she wouldn’t change a thing. A part of her likes the way he makes her brain go blank, the way he gets her heart racing, and how she can’t stop picturing him in place of her hand when she gets off. There’s something about it that, in spite of completely terrifying her, just feels right. Maybe that’s another thing she ought to ask Rose about.

Maybe someone who has actually been in love and believed it would last will know the answer—it’s just a matter of getting some quiet time away from Ben.

Not that she wants quiet time away from him. He’s intoxicating to her, she finds his energy to be infectious, something she wants to be wrapped up in at all times. It’s similar to what she feels around the woman whose stag night they’re hosting, but there’s another layer to it somehow, it’s deeper, but not more meaningful.

Swallowing nervously, she locks the apartment behind her, grip tightening on her keys as she tries to calm herself, something she seems to be doing a lot these days. Falling for someone is really doing her sanity no favors.

But maybe, just maybe, it’ll feel better in the end.

*

Maz’s is fully occupied with the usual Friday night crowd when she pulls up besides Ben’s car. Hilariously, he and Rose seem to have parked next to each other, her white Mercedes is on the far side of his, which oddly enough, warms her heart. Her two favorite people, right where they should be.

Already, though she hasn’t walked in yet, she can hear the band playing, guitars strumming an old Fleetwood Mac song, the patrons seated at their tables watching loosely as they chatter amongst themselves. The sound grows louder as she opens the door, finding it immediately joined by the sound of her friends calling out her name.

The smile on her face gets big as she registers the sight of Rose waving an arm in the air, her other best friend nodding casually as she makes her way to the bar. They’ve got beers out in front of each of them, there’s even one set out for her. Tonight, Rose is dressed just as casually as Ben is, both of them in joggers and t-shirts, making Rey realize she might be a touch overdressed, given that she’s wearing a pleated skirt and a crop-top that she never gets the chance to due to work.

If the look he gives her as she sits down, though, is anything, maybe it’s worth it.

“You got started without me?” she asks, though her mock offense is just that, a light quip intended for humor. “You’re both traitors, you know.”

Ben snorts, pushing the beer intended for her over to the edge of the bar as she sits down by his side. “Listen, you wanted us to bond, we’re just bonding.”

“Oh? And how close are you?”

“I’m canceling the wedding and eloping with Ben,” Rose replies sarcastically, slinging an arm around his broad shoulders and looking at him with mock adoration. “He’s just too sexy.”

It’s a joke, it’s definitely a joke, but she can’t help the ping of jealousy she feels in her gut as she watches him blow the bride a kiss. “I didn’t mean that close, mates.”

“Someone has a little green monster on their shoulder.”

 _Oh, you don’t know the half of it,_ she thinks, but out loud, she manages a chuckle, sipping at her drink as Ben’s cheeks flush pink.

Maybe _he_ has a little green monster on his shoulder, too, like a little devil. She wonders if the other shoulder has an angel. “Well, now that we’re all here, we should make a toast.” Ben holds his bottle in the air, waiting for the others to follow suit before bowing his head. “Rey, why don’t you lead? You’re the maid of honor.”

Tilting her glass toward him, she bites her lip, trying to think of the best thing to say. It doesn’t have to be perfect tonight, the good maid of honor-best man speech is what that’s for, but she still wants to say something good, something sweet, and so she takes a second, gathering her thoughts, then she leans forward over the bar. “To Rose, who had a dream that seemed impossible, but somehow, through sheer determination and rage, she made it work.

“Most people wouldn’t be able to pull off a wedding in three weeks, and maybe that’s mostly Ben’s skill, but it takes more than just a good wedding planner, and after all this hard work, it’s about to pay off, so here’s to Rose and Jannah, to their perfect, yet impossible day.”

Together, they clink their bottle tips in the air, then silence--well, the sound of music replaces their conversation, the chords of _Rhiannon_ echoing from the walls--settles in as they sip lightly. The bottles clink as they set them down in the aftermath, and as Rey swallows, the man beside her furrows his brows. “Why isn’t Jannah with us tonight, speaking of your fiance?”

At this, her face falls. “She’s visiting her mom, making sure she feels well enough to make it to the ceremony tomorrow.” Rose takes another sip of her drink. “Besides, having one stag night for both halves of a couple feels kind of like when you’re a kid and your birthday’s too close to Christmas so your parents just bundle all your presents.”

Weak laughter fills the air, then Rey puts a hand on her arm. “I’m sure she’s going to love it.”

“I hope so, I just want to give her one last good memory, she’s a great woman. Reminds me a lot of Maz sometimes except not as flirty.”

Leaning toward her best friend, she taps her shoulder gently with her head, then she sits up, and gestures to her bottle. “Then I think you need to make the next toast.”

“What for?”

“For your mother in law.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, Jannah’s not here to do it, so I think I’ll take care of it for her.”

Rey gives her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “Take it away.”

The bride falls quiet, then she takes a deep breath, nods, and raises a toast. “But this isn’t just for my mother in law, it’s for all of us. You guys helped me make something happen that wasn’t going to be easy, that was going to be tough and potentially disappointing, and I love you so much for that. Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, thank you both.

“I’d also like to thank the Smiths—at least I think it was the Smiths—for divorcing so terribly they drove Rey to drink, and thus the two of you met. It was a terrible day with a silver lining, because without it, we wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have a wedding or a new friend.

“And that brings me back to my mother in law, who deserves so much better than this, but lived a good life regardless. This is to her, to a life well-lived, and hopefully her daughter will spend an equally joyful existence with me.”

“To us,” the man beside her says, his eyes twinkling with some emotion she can’t read, something she wishes she could interpret better than just an inexplicable wanderlust, as he looks at her, then he tilts his bottle in the space between them, Rose following suit.

“To all of us,” she says, then Ben and Rey tap their bottles against hers, then the three of them drink again, conversation picking back up as the music swelling in their ears once more as the night properly begins, and the future dawns brighter than ever before.


	17. Stag Night Part II

Rose’s bachelorette party goes off without a hitch, to say the least. They’re only half an hour in, but this is already one of her favorite memories with either of her best friends, already something for the history books. The energy of the room is immaculate, making her feel as if she’s a part of some grand party, though it’s just her mum’s cantina and the same people she always hangs out with.

Clearly it’s enough for the bride. She seems perfectly content with entertaining them through all the stories of her and Jannah’s romance, from the moment they met to now, she tells them everything--sparring only the most eye burning details.

Both of her guests are enthralled by each one, even Rey finds herself enjoying the tale of how they fell in love. Though she knows it well by now, there’s something different about hearing it this time. Maybe it’s because now she knows how it feels to actually start falling, but she connects to it now, feels more drawn to it.

As they all raise their glasses to drink, she looks over at Ben, wondering if it could ever be possible that she’ll tell stories like this about him someday, if she’ll tell Rose and any other friends she makes about how she fell in love with Ben. She likes to think maybe she will, that one day she’ll be at her own bachelorette party entertaining a very tiny crowd with that tale.

Once upon a time, she’d thought life would be harder when she fell for someone, but now she realizes that sometimes, when it just might work, it’s easy.

Three beers in, and they decide it’s time to start dancing. Maz’s doesn’t have much of a dance floor, but the live band has a good drummer and they’ve drunk just enough to be buzzed bordering on tipsy, so they go out to dance. The room begins to spin as they whirl about each other, not caring whether or not the other patrons look on.

They’re technically doing nothing wrong after all, everyone else is simply a coward who doesn’t want to dance.

For a while, they remain like that, dancing like no one’s watching, but they’re not drunk enough to do it for hours, or at least, Rey isn’t. Now she’s off to the side, laughing as Ben dances with Rose, the two of them screaming the lyrics to _Mr. Brightside_ as it plays during a brief break in the band’s set. A few others have joined them, but they remain the most obnoxious dancers on the floor.

Still, it makes her smile, laughter spilling over her lips as she then sips from the amaretto sour the bartender poured for her a while back. She’s had it for a while, nursing it gently so as not to overintoxify herself and become drunker than she intends to. They’ve had a few too many drunk nights together lately, her poor liver needs a break.

Maybe she just won’t drink at Rose’s wedding tomorrow, maybe they’ll just enjoy one wedding sober.

“He likes you, you know,” a familiar voice says behind her, and she looks back to find her mum staring at her expectantly from behind the bar.

“I thought you were too busy to come out tonight?”

“Ah, I have my ways, you’ll find your hours are rather flexible when you’re the owner.” Maz taps her fingers on the counter. “How are you, my dear?”

Her daughter’s grin goes wider. “I’m good, Rose’s impromptu bachelorette party is a success, so--”

“Yes, I’m very happy for you.”

“Well, it’s Rose you should be happy for.”

Eyebrows rising toward her hairline, her mother tilts down the rounded frames of her glasses. “Yes, but she’s not the only one.”

Confusion and fear both begin to well within her, a feeling in her gut that she’s not going to like what Maz says next. She may even loathe it, but it may also be the greatest thing to ever happen to her, so she listens. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that your friend there can’t keep his eyes off of you, and unless yours stopped working, I think you can see it.”

“Ben’s closer to me than he is to Rose, that’s all. I’ve known him for about two months now, Rose hasn’t.” Rey shrugs. “We’re just friends, mum, I promise.”

“And is that all you want to be?”

No, no it isn’t, but it’s going to be difficult to deny or even accept it. She knows she’s in love with Ben, but what she plans to do about that is a complete mystery, even to her. It’s not exactly something she can hide forever, either. If she tries to hide it for a prolonged period of time, it might kill her a little inside, but maybe someday a solution will arise out of all this chaos, and she’ll finally figure out how to tell him.

For now, she just laughs. “I don’t know, it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking when I don’t understand what I want either.”

“If I may be frank with you, I think you know exactly what you want, it’s just something you’ve never wanted before.” Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she shifts back, grabbing a glass from a pile beneath the bar before she reaches over to the nearest beer hose. “You’ve always been fiercely against the idea of love.”

“I wouldn’t say that--”

“Don’t deny it, you’re fiercely independent, and there’s no issue with that, I just think you failed to realize you don’t need to change that about yourself to love someone else.” She snickers quietly to herself as she pours beer into her glass. “I actually think he likes that about you. He hangs on your every word, he’s fascinated by your personality, and you have more in common than you think.”

Maybe they do. That’s why they get along so well, isn’t it? They both enjoy a lot of the same things, and now that she’s certain she’s going to lose their bet--especially now that she’s helped him plan a fucking wedding--they also have love and their belief in it in common, but whether or not his love for her means something more like she hopes it does remains to be seen.

But there is something between them, and she can’t tell if it’s deeper than what it is presently--or is that just her own stubbornness acting as a last line of defense?

“Ben’s wonderful, but I don’t want to ruin what we have just because you think he looks at me in a particular way.” _A way that, if I’m being honest, I’ve seen, but I’ll never admit that._ “I really like what I have with him and it’s not as if I need to lose any friends.”

Humming softly to herself, Maz takes a sip of the drink she’s just poured. “But that boy of yours, you are aware that he fancies you, are you not?”

“Mum, please,” she mutters, sparing a quick look over her shoulder at Ben and Rose, who are still dancing clumsily, oblivious to the world around them. “I don’t know what he’s thinking. I never do.”

Except just weeks ago they’d nearly kissed by the water’s edge, they’d fallen on top of one another, his body pressed into hers, and she’d seen in his eyes that he wanted her. She can blame that on the alcohol all she wants, and perhaps it’s just wishful thinking, but maybe it wasn’t. Either way, she doesn’t want to push her luck.

Not now, not the night before her other best friend’s wedding.

Maz, bless her heart, seems to sense that. “I won’t push it dear, but you should tell him someday. Life’s too short to waste it all pining.”

“I’m only twenty-seven, I’ve got plenty of time to pine.”

“Rey, we don’t all get to die of old age. Tell that boy you love him, don’t waste all your time waiting.”

“Mum--”

“Promise me, I want to be alive to see your wedding, not in a casket. Don’t make me live longer than I have to.”

Giving her mother a weak smile, Rey sips from her drink, then sets it down on the bar. “Yeah, you’re right,” she replies, resolving to tell him sometime soon, but not tonight. This night is about Rose, as is tomorrow, and so for now, it must wait.

For now, she’s going to enjoy her night, she’s going to dance with the two people she loves most in all the world, and she’s going to forget the uncertainty that plagues her future. She’s got tonight, who needs tomorrow?

*

Later on, the evening is winding down. Rey’s sobered up enough to drive, so she sets out to drop Ben and Rose at their respective homes, the three of them giggling like children the whole way to the bride’s apartment. It’s the best she’s felt in a long time, and that includes the nights she’s had with him.

Sometimes three isn’t a crowd, but more of a party instead.

Putting her car in park outside of her friend’s home, she gets out to give her a hug goodnight. Tomorrow is going to be hectic from start to finish, and she wants one last moment of peace with her before everything goes to shit.

“You better rest up, babe, long day ahead,” she tells her as she comes around the front of the car. “For both of us.”

“I know, it’s exciting.” Rose takes a deep breath, running both hands through her hair before letting loose a tiny squeal. “I think it just hit me that I’m getting married tomorrow.”

The woman before her is actively trembling, her fingers shaking hard as she holds them out in front of her body, gesturing with excitement. Rey laughs in response, taking hold of her friend’s hands as she steps in closer. “It’ll be amazing, I promise. So will the rest of your lives--you two are made for each other.”

“So you admit love is real then?” Her eyes flicker over briefly to Ben, who is currently leaning against the window of the rear-passenger door looking as though he’s on the cusp of passing out. For all they know, he might already be asleep. “You’ve definitely lost your bet at this point.”

“It’s more than a bet now,” she admits, the corners of her mouth tilting up as she watches his eyelids finally twitch shut. “It has been for a while.”

One of Rose’s hands comes up to rest on her shoulder, drawing her attention away from the man sleeping in her car. There’s a sincerity in her eyes now, a concern born of something sweet that tells her in spite of her friend’s lack of sobriety, she still has enough state of mind to know what she’s talking about. “I think it has since the beginning.” Then she steps back. “You should tell him how you feel.”

“My mother said that, too. She thinks life’s too short to hide it forever, or even just for a little while.” A blush creeps up her cheeks at the memory, at the way she’d felt watching Ben dance as her mother said this, at how far she’s fallen since she first met him. “I’ll tell him soon.”

Nodding eagerly, the bride claps her hands together, pointing two fingers her way as her expression suddenly grows serious. “Just wait until after my wedding. I’m not having you two steal my thunder as cute as I think you are. You can do it when I’m on my honeymoon. I fully expect to come back to a _long_ voice message about how great Ben is in bed.”

Now her cheeks are properly hot, but she can agree to that. Having a delay means she has time to come up with a way to tell him how she feels. Maybe now she can figure out some way to make a bold romantic gesture like people do in the movies, or perhaps she can find the time to just do a nice dinner between the two of them, or they could even drive out to the beach and watch the stars.

Stars are romantic, right?

“I’ll wait until after your wedding, I promise.”

Patting her shoulder, Rose winks. “Good girl,” she says, then she reaches into the pocket of her sweatpants. “I’ll see you in the morning. Good night!”

“Night,” Rey repeats, then she heads back to her car, listening to the faint sound of her friend’s footsteps padding away as she opens the door, and plops herself back inside.

A groan sounds from the backseat as she starts the car up again, causing her to chuckle as she checks the rearview mirror, finding Ben adjusting his palm beneath his cheek like it’s a pillow. “Comfortable?”

“I’m sleepy,” he replies plainly as she puts the car into reverse, and begins to back out of Rose’s driveway. “I want my bed.”

“You don’t even sound that drunk, come on, Ben.” But she’s still laughing as she accelerates down the road, checking in on him through the mirror every couple of seconds--perhaps a touch more often than she needs to.

Grumbling quietly to himself, Ben swats the air, then he sits up, stretching a tad before he looks between her and the empty passenger seat beside her. “Wait, why didn’t you let me move up front? I feel like a kid back here.”

“You were half asleep, you fool. I thought you were going to just stay that way until I got to your apartment.” Shrugging, she turns onto the next street. “You could always move up now.”

“While you’re driving? That’d be a bit dangerous, don’t you think?”

She winks at the mirror. “Listen, I know I’m a lawyer, but--”

“You’re a divorce lawyer, Rey.”

“Shut up.”

Soft little giggles spill from his lips, making her heart skip a beat as she hears him unbuckle the seatbelt, then one of his legs appears in the space between her seat and the passenger side. “But I will do as you command,” he says, then he slips in beside her, stumbling slightly as he sits down, then reaches back for the seatbelt. “Your highness.”

Keeping a tight grip on the steering wheel with one hand, she holds up a finger. “I did _not_ command you to do this.”

“Still, it’s not like it’ll kill me.”

It’s just a joke, but immediately her mind goes back to the conversation she’s just had with Rose, to the one she had with her mother at the cantina. They really could go at any time, doing anything, at any place. Life really is short, and she shouldn’t delay this for any longer than she has to. Sure, she might not die tomorrow, but that truly does not mean she should wait forever. That’s longer than anyone has. “Just stay alive until after Rose’s wedding, okay? Then we can die.”

“Why? What happens after Rose’s wedding?” He looks both confused and intrigued, leaning forward in his seat as he stares at her, she can see him looking out of the corner of her eye.

 _I can finally tell you how I feel about you without "stealing her thunder."_ She can’t tell him that, of course. A promise is a promise, especially to a friend who means as much to her as the woman whose wedding they’re attending tomorrow. Now she must come up with a lie, a scenario that’s believable enough that she can avoid him asking questions, but what?

As they say, there’s nothing better than the truth, and there’s more to tomorrow than just Rey telling Ben about how she feels. “It’s not about after the wedding, it’s about making sure her perfect day is just that, perfect. It’s already been rushed in three weeks, we don’t need anything going wrong, hence why it is of the utmost importance that we remain alive until after eleven o’clock tomorrow evening.” She even adds a pointer finger for dramatic effect once they come to stop at a red light, causing the man beside her to chuckle.

“Sounds fair enough,” he says, then he pauses, waiting until the light turns green and she steps on the gas, the car’s engine purring softly in the silence. “What did y’all talk about just now?”

 _You and how much I want to pin you to a wall and have my way with you--_ “She’s just excited to be getting married, you know, that’s all.” Another half-truth, but she’ll take it. If partially telling the truth is the only way she can lie tonight, then so be it. “And she’s grateful, to both of us, but most of all to you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, then he reaches over and rests his hand on her shoulder. “This wedding was done in equal parts by both of us, and Rose.” His thumb rubs gently over the edge of a bone, causing her to fight back a shiver. “You’re incredible, you know. You’ve made her dream come true even if it’s not something you believe in for yourself, so… thank you.”

Biting her lip, she sighs. “Who says I don’t believe in it still? Maybe I’ve changed.”

“Careful, Rey,” he whispers, squeezing her shoulder. “I might start to think you’ve conceded our bet.”

Another smile parts her lips as she pulls onto the entrance ramp to the highway, giving him a wink even as her focus remains on the road ahead. “I think it’s safe to say the outcome of this bet is unpredictable.”

“So you admit defeat then?” he asks, excitement lacing his voice in a way that lets her know his heart is pounding against his chest, the bones beneath his skin barely containing it in its effort to break free. “You’ve lost?”

“I’m not admitting anything,” she replies, causing him to slump back frustratedly as he grumbles to himself, then as the world around them becomes a dark blur of trees and streetlights, she gives him one last look. _God,_ she loves him, she knows she loves him, and the bet is so over in her mind, so far lost, that she decides she can admit something to herself, something she prays he can’t hear as she whispers quietly, “Maybe I already have.”


	18. Ready

The wedding isn’t until seven, when the sun is due to set and paint everything in that specific, fiery, pink-orange hue that makes everything glow, but Rey and Ben get there with the rest of the small staff they’ve hired to help them with the wedding at three. There’s a lot of chairs to set up and the wind has picked up, meaning they have to dig them into the sand a little for extra security. The guests are going to lose a few inches of height, but she figures it’ll be worth it to prevent them from falling over.

Her main worry is the sand getting everywhere, especially in everyone’s eyes--especially Rose and Jannah, because what could be better whilst saying vows than sand in the eyes and mouth?

Ben, as a result, is left checking the weather every five minutes, assuring her that the wind will calm down by the time the afternoon rolls over, and they’ll be left with only a nice sea breeze. That sounds doable, nice even, and she finds herself looking forward to it again with his latest announcement as she fastens a pink rosebud to one of the seats in the middle row. Well, it’s row four of six, so slightly closer to the back, but still, it’s between one and six, that’s middle enough.

“I just want everything to be perfect for her,” she tells him as he hands her a second bud, then she fastens it to the chair on the opposite side of the aisle. “If there is so much as the slightest fucking gust I will lose it.”

He snickers quietly to himself, adjusting one of the chairs before resting a hand on her shoulder. “That’s progress.”

Eyebrows furrowing, she finishes tying the rose to the chair, then she turns around, standing up to face him. “What do you mean?”

“You want this to be perfect for her, even if it’s not something you believe in.” He shrugs. “Unless it is and you’re admitting to losing the bet.”

_Oh,_ the bet is long since lost, but she’s not going to admit that yet. She’s got to give him a fair trial at all five weddings after all, and this is number four. They still have one more to go after this, and that’s when she’ll surrender completely, but surely he’ll figure it out anyway when she tells him how she feels.

If she gets up the courage to, that is.

Giving him a nervous laugh, she shakes her head. “I’m not admitting to anything until after the last wedding. For all we know, the last two could go horribly wrong and you could still admit defeat. Maybe love is dead.”

What a piece of shit excuse, but it makes him laugh. “I’m going to miss it.” He grasps at another flower, handing her one before he begins the fastenings of another. “This bet.”

“We’re still going to see each other when this is over, though, it’s not as if we’re going to attend our last wedding and never speak again.”

“I know, but…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair once he’s finished attaching it to the chair. “I’ll miss the constant party, the way all of these weddings are so much more fun when you’re around. It’s stupid, but you make my job better.”

The corners of her mouth twitch as she processes this, realizing for the first time just how much she might mean to him. What started as a stupid bet between two semi-drunk people at a bar has blossomed into this, a genuine connection they both don’t want to live without, whether or not it’s romantic, and hearing him say that makes her heart warm. Or maybe that’s the sun striking her back, either way, she appreciates it. “You’re too sweet. Sometimes, at least, when you’re not being an idiot.”

Chuckling to himself, he ties another Rose to the chair, then sits back, watching as other members of the wedding party help set up the altar, a little arch with just as many roses as the chairs. It’s not much, but given how quickly they put it all together, it’s enough. “We make a good team,” he says simply, because if she’s being honest, it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’d almost consider asking you to be my business partner if I thought you’d say yes.”

“What makes you so certain I’d say no?” _Aside from the obvious._

“I think as much as your job can sometimes bring you misery, you love it.” His hands dig into the sand below them, letting it fall through his fingers for a couple of seconds before he continues. “You like helping people, even when they’re at their worst. It’s a good thing to do, but I think, if you ever need a break, I’d be willing to open up a position for you. Maybe you could be a sort of part-time partner.”

It’d be nice, wouldn’t it? Working with Ben, having even more excuses to spend time with him, having more ways to get him to talk with her for hours on end, but it also makes her think of how it would impact their relationship. If she tells him how she feels after tonight and she loses this chance with him because he might not feel the same way, she’ll be devastated. Not only will she have lost a near and close friend, but now she’ll have lost a chance to get away from the more stressful aspects of her job.

_If_ things go wrong, that is. There’s every possibility that they won’t, since this conversation alone is enough to assure her that even if he doesn’t return her feelings, he’ll likely let her down gently, but it’ll still hurt. A day--or more if she so chooses--remains until she can tell him; hopefully by then she’ll have gathered all her courage, whether it ends well for her or not.

The breeze picks up again as the answer comes to her mind, the decision made to risk everything, to lay all cards out on the table. Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she takes stock of the way the wind ruffles the waves of his hair, blowing them gently behind him as he stares at her in anticipation, waiting patiently for her reply. She can’t keep him waiting. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“You would?”

“Mhm, I’ll just have to let you know when I’m free.”

His grin grows impossibly wide, dimples practically glowing in the sunlight as he reaches for the last flowers for the front row of chairs. “I like that plan.”

A blush coats her cheeks, warmth flooding her entire body as she looks away, eyes searching for something else to talk about. They soon land on the unset and unlit torches they’d brought, laying in the back of a pick-up truck from one of Jannah’s wedding guests. No one’s touched them in the hour or so that they’ve been here, which means Rey now has something to do. “Let’s go set up the torches. I’ve got to help Rose get ready in about fifteen minutes, so I’d like to get as much done as possible.”

He shakes his head. “No, let me get the torches, go be with Rose, it’ll take you ten minutes to walk there anyway.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m the wedding planner anyway, I need to stay behind and watch all the decorations. Gotta make sure everything comes together.” He gestures forth. “Go, I’ll join you when I have to put on my tux.”

Giving him one last dramatic sigh, Rey places a hand on his shoulder, then she leans forward, and before she can lose her nerve, places a gentle, brief kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you later,” she tells him, then she rises, jogging her way down the beach as best as the sand will allow, trying desperately not to think of the way his jaw had fallen slack when she’d kissed him, the way his eyes were trailing after her, and how she can still feel them on her back even now.

It might mean something, but she’s promised Rose she won’t do anything about her feelings for him until after the wedding is over. There’s just a little more time left in the day, just a few more hours, and less than twenty-four of them until her friend takes off on her honeymoon. It’s not much more waiting, but right now, it feels like an eternity.

*

Rose’s house is pretty quiet when she walks in there. The distant sound of soft pop music filters in from the bedroom down the hall, but other than that, it’s only a chorus of air conditioning and the dishwasher filling her ears as she walks in.

It makes sense, she supposes, since Jannah’s getting ready in the condo her parents rented in town for the occasion. Neither bride wanted to see the other before the wedding, as is tradition, but it makes for an eerily quiet house upon entry.

“Rey is that you?” her friend’s voice calls out, then a moment later, her head pops out into the hall, an enormous smile lighting up the entire house as she opens the door, then makes her way down. “Oh thank god, I think I’ve got my hair down, but I’m struggling with the eyeliner, I’ve redone it forty times at this point and my skin is fucking raw because I’ve rubbed at it so much. Please save me.”

Placing a hand beneath her friend’s chin, she tilts it up to get a look at the damage. Sure enough, the corners of Rose’s eyes are stained pink, the skin irritated from all the friction done by what was likely a makeup wipe. “Okay, it’s not that bad, let’s go back in there and get you fixed up.”

“You’re a saint.” Then she wraps her fingers around Rey’s wrist, tugging her into her bedroom as she makes a mad dash toward her vanity mirror. “How’s decorating going by the way? Everything running smoothly or is it super windy down there and it’s a nightmare?”

“Opposite of a nightmare, I promise,” she replies, picking up an abandoned eyeshadow palette and brush once they make it to her counter. “Everything looks beautiful. I left right when they were starting to set up the torches and all that. Ben decided to take charge from there.”

An amused snort leaves the bride as Rey dips the eyeshadow brush into a light brown shade, buffing it into the outer portion of her lid as her eyes fall shut. “Did he say that? That he’d--” She lowers her voice, but it trembles with the effort of keeping herself from laughing. “‘Take charge.’”

Eyes rolling back in her head, she groans. “No, it wasn’t like that. He just said he’d finish up, that he’d take care of the rest so I could help you get ready.” Moving on to the other eye, she dips the brush in the pigment once more before she begins swirling it into her crease. “And then get ready myself.”

“Ah, right.” She points to the bedroom. “Ben brought your dress over earlier, by the way, before he went out to help you set up.”

“That’s good,” she says quietly, setting down the brush before dipping her finger into a shimmery gold shade, then she begins dabbing it onto the center of her eyelid, blending it out into the brown. “Saves me time.”

Rose looks at her curiously as she pulls away to dip her finger back into the gold, her gaze softening as she comes to a realization. “You talked, didn’t you?”

“Of course we did. We always do.”

“No, I mean about stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Rey. You know, the thing we talked about last night?” Her eyes shift between her friend’s, waiting until she comes to the same conclusion before speaking again. “Did it go well?”

Now she’s blushing yet again, wondering just how many times she’ll wind up doing that today and every moment up until she’s finally told him how she feels. She’ll probably be a mess for a minute, it’s just something she’ll have to live with. “I haven’t told him yet. You said not to last night.”

“Technically you can do what you want, but I appreciate you waiting. I’m just proud that you have the courage to do it at all,” she admits as Rey picks up an eyeliner pen, and begins drawing a straight line from the corner of her eye to about a quarter of the way to the tail of her eyebrow, then back in. “Not that I think you’re a coward, I just know this kind of thing gets scary for you.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but it’s true. Love is terrifying to Rey, and it always has been ever since she was a little girl. Being around Ben and all the couples they’ve met over their time together has helped some, but the fact remains that there’s still a part of her that’s petrified of the moment in which she’ll finally admit to him how she feels. “It’s okay, I know I don’t exactly come naturally to this kind of thing.”

As she moves on to the other eye, Rose smiles. “I think it comes more naturally to you than you might think. I love you, Ben clearly loves you, and Maz absolutely adores you and considers herself lucky to have you in her life. Love is easier than you might think. If it comes to you so naturally in platonic relationships, I promise it’ll come just as easily in a romantic one.”

That’s a fair point. She does love her friends very easily, and her platonic love for Ben came within days of meeting him. Maybe it isn’t as scary as she thinks it is, and tomorrow when she gets the chance to tell him how she feels, it’ll be like breathing. “What am I going to do without you for the next week? You always keep my head level.”

“Don’t crash and burn, I promise you’re stronger than you think.” She rests a hand on Rey’s free arm as she finishes the second wing. “You’ve got this, babe. We’re going to go out there and kick ass at this wedding tonight, then you’re going to go lose your bet. Formally.”

“Knock on wood, for all you know everything could go wrong and I’ll still win.”

“But at this point would you want to?” she asks, then she turns away from her maid of honor, picking up a mascara wand off of the counter before she begins to comb the black fibers through her eyelashes. “You’re having a lot of fun with it, and I can tell you’ll be happier if you lose, funnily enough.”

It’s true. At this point in the game, Rey would rather lose a million times over than admit defeat, which means she’s now extra dedicated to not jinxing her luck. Rather, she’s inspired to do everything in her power to ensure she doesn’t win, that Ben’s point is proven, that all of this has the happy ending she’d thought just weeks ago was impossible.

And now it’s something she wants more than anything. It’s funny how things change, how quickly they can change. Beyond just learning that maybe love does exist, she’s helped plan a fucking wedding, the bride is standing in front of her putting on her makeup, and she’s about to help someone do the very thing she once laughed at.

Weeks ago she would’ve just shrugged it off and called it supportive best friend duties, but given how much she’s enjoyed putting this together with Rose and Ben, she knows it’s more than that. Now she’s even more excited for what he’d offered her on the beach, for the chance to do this again with him on the side.

A whole new future has just opened up for her, regardless of whether things work out between them romantically.

Eventually, her attention is captured by the sound of Rose setting down her mascara wand, and picking up a mid-tone pink tube of lipstick. “I’m kind of nervous, I’m not gonna lie. I’ve been waiting for this moment for years, and now that it’s finally here, I’m about to start shaking.”

Resting a hand on Rose’s arm, she leans her head against her friend’s. “You’re going to be fine. Everything will work out perfectly, I promise.”

“I know, it’s just… you know how sometimes when you take a big life step it just hits you out of nowhere how big it is?”

“I know what you mean. Probably now more than ever.”

Rose gives her a hopeful smile in the mirror, then leans forward, and resumes applying her lipstick. “I guess we both have to be brave now, don’t we?”

“Yeah, guess so. I just hope that when tonight is over and you’re off on your honeymoon that I’m still as brave as I feel now. A part of me just wants to run out and tell him just to get it over with.”

“Don’t you dare. All good things to those who wait and all,” Rose says, setting her brush down as she makes her way out of the vanity, and toward her closet, where the dress she’s chosen hangs in a bag outside the door. Looking at it wistfully, she runs a hand down the clear, shiny vinyl, then reaches for the zipper. “Okay, help me get into this thing, then I’ll help you into yours.”

Nodding, Rey unzips the dress bag, then pulls the gown out, watching layers of sweeping, sunset colored fabric fly out around them as she sets it down on the bed behind her. Once she’s done, she lets her eyes sweep briefly over the white bodice, the sweetheart neckline that the bride had fallen in love with a while back in the process of dress shopping. One day, she hopes to be able to look down at her own wedding dress with this kind of admiration and excitement, except multiplied tenfold by excitement since it’ll be hers instead.

She turns to Rose, then holds out her hand. “Let’s have us a wedding,” she says, then her friend unzips the side of the dress, and they finish their work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rose's dress](https://www.etsy.com/listing/785158531/ombre-wedding-dress-rainbow-wedding?gpla=1&gao=1&)
> 
> [Rey's dress](https://www.asos.com/us/frock-and-frill/frock-frill-sequin-tulle-maxi-dress-in-blush/prd/13958299?affid=25710&_cclid=Google_CjwKCAiAq8f-BRBtEiwAGr3DgQD_gjpDGM6pYEtTGWHNJNAtq7oUknk9AeBzpQ8e5mbU7_Bi6PLs1BoCN6cQAvD_BwE&channelref=product+search&mk=abc&ppcadref=10104919879%7c106779534612%7cpla-294682000766&cpn=10104919879&gclid=CjwKCAiAq8f-BRBtEiwAGr3DgQD_gjpDGM6pYEtTGWHNJNAtq7oUknk9AeBzpQ8e5mbU7_Bi6PLs1BoCN6cQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds)


	19. Boiling Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long, I took some time to finish my fic for the RFFA gift exchange (which comes out next week so if you spot mine, I'd be interested to see) but I'm back now! 
> 
> I'd also say that of all the chapters in this fic, I think this might've been worth the wait.
> 
> I'd also also say that there's a good chance the chapter count will go up one more time

Rey and Ben, ironically enough, are the first ones to walk down the aisle. As the honorary best man, Ben is the one who takes her arm and guides her down, the two of them heading for the respective sides of the two women whose wedding they’ve been planning for the past two weeks.

All eyes, for the time being, are on them, and though it’s only about fifty eyes, she’s still shaken. This feels almost real, like she’s not the opening act, but the main event. Maybe that has more to do with the fact that she’s walking down the aisle with a man in a tuxedo and she’s very well dressed, but still, it sends shivers down her spine.

Ben mistaking her shivering for her being cold and rubbing her arm gently doesn’t fucking help like he thinks it does, but god does she love him for it. In spite of his efforts, though, the goosebumps are still there by the time they make it to the end of the aisle, giving one another a brief nod before they separate, and stand on either side.

The guitarist they’d hired to play at the wedding shifts into _Here Comes the Bride,_ then Rey finds herself beaming as Rose and Jannah follow suit, holding onto one another’s arms with rosy cheeks and smiles that are impossibly wide on their faces. The former of the two has misty eyes, her hand coming up to pat them dry every couple of seconds as they make the short journey from one end of the aisle to the other.

They look incredible together. Rose’s sunset hued dress looks as though it’s on fire in the light of the actual dying sunlight, and her bride’s dress, though a plain white, somehow manages to complement it in spite of the colors not quite matching. Though maybe that has little to do with the dress itself, and more to do with the joy she can feel in the air. This is the happiest moment of their lives, how they look matters very little.

When they reach the end of the aisle, Rose hands off her bouquet of pink roses to Rey while Jannah hands hers to Ben, the two of them smirking at one another in the aftermath as they turn to face one another. Their hands join as a suit-clad officiant steps forward, and the ceremony begins.

“To those who don’t know, Jannah and I met in college,” the first bride says, laughing weakly at a memory the audience can’t see. “I was in the law program, she was media studies, and somehow, at a late night study session, we just clicked. I thought we were just friends at first, but then—”

“They don’t need to know about that,” her fiance interrupts, earning them a chuckle from the audience, including their maid of honor and best man.

Looking at Ben in the aftermath, she’s surprised to find him blushing. There isn’t time to ask him why now, but she makes a mental note to ask him about it later as Rose picks up her vows. “Sure, but anyway, point is, I thought maybe you’d just be someone I dated in college, a story to tell later. I was just discovering who I was, learning that maybe I didn’t want to be with the princes in all the movies I saw growing up, that I liked Jasmine more than Aladdin, and you, you were so pivotal to that discovery. You shaped me, changed me in the most beautiful way imaginable, and I don’t know where I’d be without you.

“I guess I should’ve known when the U-Haul showed up that I wasn’t going back, though, and though we’ve been through some tough times, I know there’s no one else I’d rather weather the storm with. So for the rest of my life, I look forward to having you at my side through it all, no matter what life throws at us.”

Even Rey can’t help but grin at that. The idea of having someone there through everything like that, someone who transcends meaning and makes her question everything she knows while supporting her unconditionally is admittedly appealing. Maybe if she’d thought about it like this all along, she never would’ve believed marriage was a hopeless aspiration.

But if she’d thought about it like that, she never would’ve met Ben, they never would’ve made their bet, and they never would’ve become friends. _And she never would’ve fallen for him._

“I think me showing up to your house with the U-Haul was kind of impulsive, and it could’ve ended very badly, but I don’t regret doing it,” Jannah says, drawing Rey’s attention back to the ceremony, body jolting slightly from shock. “That was the best fifty bucks I’ve ever spent. We took a lot of risks with this relationship, we started quickly and then let it simmer, but five years is enough waiting, I know in the bottom of my heart that this thing with you is right for me, right for _us_.

“We’ve got a lot of years to go together, you and me. But as we both know a lot of time can suddenly become very little, and so with that said, I don’t want to wait another second. I want to spend whatever I’ve got left with you, in your arms, by your side, however you’ll have me, that’s where I want to be.”

 _Life is short,_ goes unsaid, and so does everything she can tell Jannah is feeling about why they’re getting married now. Her mother is sitting in the front row, looking a little too pale and thin, but she’s still smiling as if she’s got years of life left in her. This is why they’ve gathered here today, to let this woman witness one of her daughter’s biggest life steps, to let her have one more good day.

She’s a living example of just how little time they have on this Earth, and as the words, the actions taken by everyone on this day and the ones leading up to it truly sink in, she knows she may not have time to wait. Does she really want to go out having never said anything? How could she have been such a fool before?

As the officiant directs the brides to kiss, Rey makes a plan to tell him how she feels after they go home. Maybe it’ll be quick, maybe it’ll be long and drawn out, it might even be difficult, but she’s got to do it. Life, as she now knows, is so, impossibly short.

Rose’s lips touch Jannah’s, and as the audience roars with applause, she looks across the aisle at Ben, fighting the urge to shiver as she realizes his eyes are already locked on hers. There’s something in him that she can’t quite see, some thought in his mind she can’t read, and it scares her because she can see something kind and almost affectionate in his eyes.

Friends can look at each other like that, sure, but she hopes it’s something deeper, that they’ve been thinking on the same plane this whole time. There’s no certainty right now, everything’s up in the air, but eventually the penny is going to drop, and it’ll reveal either its head or tail side, deciding their future once and for all.

The two brides pull apart, holding their hands high in the air before they begin to walk back down the aisle, their tiny little wedding party following suit. Rey reaches forward, grasping hold of Ben’s hand before they start that walk together, staring ahead at the two women in white.

“It’s going beautifully so far,” he tells her, a smile parting his lips when she turns to look at him. “The most important part is over, the ceremony was perfect, now we just have to survive the reception.”

Snorting, she swats casually at the air. “Oh, you and I are _professionals_ at wedding receptions.”

“Getting drunk together at three different wedding receptions does not count as being professional.”

“I just meant we know how to make them work, and every other reception I’ve attended with you has been perfect.” A shrug, then she places a hand on his arm. “This is going to be perfect, I know it is.”

“And how do you know that?”

“You planned this wedding, and as long as I’ve known you, I’ve never seen one go wrong.”

He gives her a self-deprecating laugh. “You seem to forget how we met.”

The corners of her mouth twitch again. “Oh, Ben, I could never forget meeting you.” And she means it as casually as possible, simply wanting to convey to him that he means something to her—whether it’s platonic or romantic—but the way he looks at her in the aftermath, it’s as if he’s trying to figure her out.

No, not as if she’s a mystery he doesn’t understand, but perhaps as if he’s seeing her for the first time. There’s a shift in the tide, a change in the wind, and in the air, she feels a growing sense of hope.

*

As she predicted, the reception goes off without a hitch. By the time they make it to Rose’s place, the Dee-Jay they hired is already blasting music, the playlist she and Rey had arranged filling the air with the sweet sound of something happy.

They take two shots together before heading out onto the dance floor, the warm buzz of alcohol flooding their senses to the tune of Tegan and Sara’s _Closer._ It’s not much different from any other reception—save for their emotional connection to the brides—but the thudding baseline and cherry-red hue of Ben’s lips makes her feel as if the night is electric—as if she’s _alive_ in a way she’s never been before.

Together they scream the lyrics to the chorus of the song, their voices off key and plugged up by laughter, but neither of them cares, they’re too lost in the atmosphere of the night. The stars above are shining, their friends have just gotten married, and they’ve just made an impossible dream come true. For once in their lives, everything is perfect, and she plans to enjoy every second of it as the sun descends beyond the horizon, and they’re plunged into the night.

Whirling her around, Ben pulls her back in close, and though his hair has fallen like a curtain into his eyes, she can still see the way they shine. As one song transitions smoothly into the next, she brushes the hair from his eyes, then they resume the delighted, joyous bouncing that makes up slightly intoxicated dancing.

Of course, slightly intoxicated soon slips into definitely intoxicated as they down two more shots, dancing their way through another few songs as the world grows fuzzy around them, everything blurring into all those rainbow dots she sees when she stands up too fast. The only things in focus are the lights and her dance partner, the two of them lost in their own little world as they drift closer, brought to euphoria by the sound and the alcohol.

Eventually, Ben pulls her closer, both of them still laughing as his hands cover her hips, her own clinging to his shoulders as the song shifts into a slow one. The change in tempo changes things, the atmosphere shifting once more as they’re forced to look at one another properly, to see one another in the glow of the fairy lights strung overhead.

That look in his eyes from earlier becomes clear in this light. Now she can see the hunger deep in the gold of those irises, now she sees what he wants, what he needs, and she can feel it in her soul, in the pits of her stomach. It brings a feeling akin to when she’s on a rollercoaster and it’s just started down the big hill at the beginning, but this is not Six Flags.

This is something else. It’s the same thing she felt on the beach when they’d fallen on top of each other, when the wave had crested and fallen over their bodies, coating them in cool, salty water while they remained oblivious. Only this time, as his eyes flicker down, she isn’t afraid to let him close that gap, to let him lean forward and—

 _No fear. No hesitation. Hold nothing back,_ she tells herself. If this moment gives her the opportunity she thinks it does, she may have the chance to tell him sooner than she thought. The only thing holding her back now is her promise to Rose, but if it makes her happy in the end, isn’t it worth it?

Ben’s hand slides down from her hip, palm cupping the entire left cheek of her ass as he pulls her closer, their bodies pressed tightly together as she resolves to just let this happen and figure out what it means later. People hook up at weddings all the time, and Rose said nothing about that, if she recalls correctly.

The only thing she needs to hold back, for now, is the way she feels in her heart. Her body is free.

Their faces are inches apart now, his features no longer in focus, and she lets her eyes drift shut, breath growing shaky as his ghosts over her lips. Her heart starts hammering in her chest, her mind free of all thoughts as she feels the first hint of contact, then she can’t take it anymore. In her life, she’s done enough waiting, and so she brings up her hand to the base of his skull, pulling him close against her as she takes his lower lip between hers, and the tension ignites.

He doesn’t hesitate to move, one hand splaying out over her back as the other squeezes her ass like it’s his lifeline. From there, they move together, the kiss sparking what she can only describe as fireworks in her brain.

It’s _this_ , she realizes. This is what makes people risk it all for love, what makes people walk down aisles and take vows. It’s his lips moving in time with hers, his hand on her ass, her hands in his hair, his nose pressing into her cheek as oxygen fleas her lungs, burning in her veins. He’s causing that fire, he’s causing all those cheesy, stupid feelings to bubble up inside of her to the surface, her mind swirling with a vast, newfound knowledge, the discovery of an endless sea of possibilities.

That fire in her lungs, though, eventually wins out, and she pulls back, but not very far. They still remain in one another’s spaces, still breathing each other’s air. Her eyes remain shut, the stars still swirling behind her lids as she fights to stay standing.

She’s not sure she’s ever panted so hard in her life. Rey’s run marathons, done intensive training and exercises in her youth, but none of them have ever rendered her quite as winded as this does.

“Ben,” she manages to say when she finally catches her breath. “I—”

But she never gets to finish that sentence. At that moment, the unmistakable sound of a spoon clinking against glass fills the room, and the music falls quiet, bringing them back to reality. Her eyes flutter open, and the first thing she sees in the aftermath is not the smirk she’s expecting, but the look of someone awestruck and inspired.

He also has her lipstick all over his mouth. _Shit,_ hopefully that doesn’t look as bad from a distance.

She doesn’t have time to process that either, her attention is caught by one last clink of the spoon to glass, then she’s looking at Rose, the bride winking at her with a knowing eye as she holds her glass high in the air. Luckily, no one else in the room seems to be looking her way, their eyes are all on the wedding party.

As they should be.

“Good evening everyone,” Rose begins, still holding her glass out in front of her, but closer to her chest as she speaks. “I know this isn’t much and it’s not all of us, but the fact that you’re all here with us, making this dream of mine possible, means more than any of you can ever know.

“But I’m not raising my glass to any simple good night. This party, the ceremony, they were all made possible by one person—no, two people. Rey Kanata and Ben Solo, I think we should all give them a hand.” Pausing in her toast, she points to where they stand in the audience, allowing a moment to pass in which the dozens of guests applaud, their eyes turning toward the two people who helped plan the wedding as their hands clap together over and over again.

Rey manages a nervous wave, praying no one notices the lipstick that’s smudged across both of their mouths as Rose then gestures to her wife. “They made this possible, and if I’m being honest, so did work. If one shitty divorce hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be married right now. It’s funny how fate works out that way.

“But anyway, I wanted to toast to them, to everyone who made this possible, to Ben and Rey, to the people who drove them together, to all of you, and most importantly to my wife.” She looks at Jannah, whose cheeks have already blossomed into a spectacular shade of red. “Because she is my world, my rock, and I am so glad we had the opportunity to bring ourselves together before all of you. So to all of us, may we celebrate tonight, tomorrow, and for the rest of our lives.

“To us.”

“To us,” the crowd repeats, then everyone with a drink in their hand takes a sip.

“Thank you all so much, enjoy the party, and Rey, babe, if you’re feeling up to it, hopefully you’ll be able to give a toast soon?”

Rey shakes her head. “Just give me a minute to come up with something nice!” she shouts across the yard, hardly listening to her friend’s response as the party picks up again, and the music resumes—she thinks she laughed, though.

Turning back to Ben, she closes her eyes for a second, then rests a hand on his chest. “Do you, mybe want to um, help me come up with something?” she asks, gesturing with her free hand to Rose’s house. “In my car? Or yours?”

“Won’t Rose notice if we’re gone?”

“I don’t think she’ll mind if we dip out for like twenty, thirty minutes if the champagne keeps flowing freely.”

Breath hitching he laughs, then his face shifts into something curious. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“You just kissed the hell out of me, what do you think I’m suggesting?”

“Technically, you kissed me, I’m just—”

Smacking his arm, she scoffs. “Oh, shut up.”

Another low laugh shakes his chest, then he runs a hand through his already mussed hair. “Rey, you’ve never been through the timeless tradition of hooking up at a wedding, have you?”

 _Now he’s getting it._ “No, I can’t say I have.”

Nodding to himself, he holds out his hand. “Then, I think I’m obligated to tell you…” He leans in, taking hold of her hand as he whispers in her ear, “My car is parked closer to the house than yours is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Jannah's Dress](https://www.tbdress.com/product/Straps-A-Line-Split-Front-Beach-Wedding-Dress-2019-14722762.html?currency=USD#8062307)
> 
> **SO IT HAPPENED**


	20. While We Climb in the Backseat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter count is going up soon but I won’t know how much for another chapter or two so 😅

Giggles leave her helplessly as she tugs on his tie, guiding him to the car as he chokes on his laughter. This is so stupid, so reckless, and Rose is going to _kill_ her later when she realizes she fucked the wedding planner instead of coming up with a really nice maid of honor speech, but she doesn’t care.

Throwing open his car door is the best she’s felt in a while, and it only gets better when she gives him a gentle shove, and he stumbles inside. It’s honestly a god damned miracle he doesn’t hit his head as she crawls over him, barely remembering to shut the door behind them as she takes his face in her hands, then for the second time in one night, she’s kissing him. 

_God,_ it feels good to kiss him. This is only their second kiss but she’s already addicted to the feeling, she already needs _more._ He’s intoxicating, the way he moves against her, the way he takes control of the kiss even though she’s on top, and her vision fills with stars when he slips his tongue past her lips, making her unsure where she ends and he begins.

_And it’s only a fucking kiss._

It goes on like that for what feels like an infinity, her mind swirling with the endless possibilities of what this night will bring, the way he could make her feel if this is what it’s like after just a kiss. A soft moan escapes her, the sound muffled by his lips, but she can feel him smile against her nonetheless. 

She could do this forever, just kiss him until the world ends, but her lungs are once again protesting.

Pulling back, Rey’s breath leaves her in a rush, panting hard as she lets her hands slip into his hair, clinging to him for dear life in search of proof that this beautiful thing that’s happened between them is real. It sure feels real, but a part of her is concerned that somehow it’s a fucking dream. 

Luckily Ben seems to read her mind, he always has been capable of it, and he rests his hands on her upper thighs, his thumbs gliding gently over the skin of her inner thighs as she tries to remember how to breathe. They’re very close to where she needs him to be, so stupidly close, but it’s not enough. She needs to feel his hands on her, she needs to feel his hands on her right fucking now, and if she doesn’t, she may not survive. 

He’d promised her a wedding hookup, and god damn it, she is going to get one. “Please, just touch me,” she begs him, hating how needy she sounds while also being aware that she’s never needed anything so badly in her entire life. “Ben, please…”

A low, rumbling laugh shakes them both, then he leans forward, and whispers in her ear. “And what else do you want?”

She doesn’t come from that alone, but she’s fairly certain she’s wetter than she’s ever been, her underwear undoubtedly soaked through as his fingers drift a little closer to their waistband. “Make me come. Just--Just make me come I don’t care how you do it--but--” She holds up a finger. “You do need to be fast though, Rose is going to kill us if we don’t get back there in another fifteen minutes.”

Snorting his amusement, he leans in, capturing her lips in another brief kiss. “I think I can manage,” he replies, then his fingers begin peeling her underwear down her thighs. Her breath hitches as she helps slip them further down, little pants escaping her lips with every passing second until he finally gets them off of her, tossing them somewhere in a corner where she knows she’ll never see them again. 

But she doesn’t have time to mourn the loss of the thirty-dollar thong, because next thing she knows, his finger skims over her cunt, brushing gently over the wetness there as she gasps in his arms. It’s only a small touch, the slightest preview of what’s to come, but she wants this so badly-- _needs_ it, she should say--she’s on the cusp of falling apart. 

One of his fingers begins pressing gently inside of her, and her hands grip tightly at his hair as she holds herself to him, his finger pressing inch by inch. Ben’s trembling slightly, she can feel it as he presses his thumb against her clit. He’s shaking and she doesn’t know why, but she can worry about that later, right now, they’re short on time and she’s desperate to come. 

Something tells her he knows that. 

Ben’s watching her as he presses his finger more firmly inside of her, his eyes dark and low as they take her in, but she’s watching him too. His gaze may be stony, firm, and a little mix of dark and sexy, but his lower lip shares the same tremble as his hand, the same unsteady thing she can feel as his thumb starts circling her clit. For some reason, he’s nervous, but she won’t put too much thought into that. She _can’t._

This is just a hookup, he’d promised her that, and besides, Rose is already going to kill her for fucking during her wedding. She doesn’t need to give her the love thing as another reason for murder. 

“Ben,” she breathes, fingers threading through his hair as he begins to move inside of her. 

“Don’t talk,” he whispers, curling that finger once he’s buried it completely, causing her to whine pathetically as his other hand pulls her close for a kiss. “But let me hear you.” Kissing her again, he smiles against her lips, pumping his finger a little faster in and out of her. “Let me see you come apart. No one will hear you.”

Another moan leaves her, then she kisses him again, his lips swallowing the sound as he begins to bring her to the edge in earnest. One finger is reaching places inside of her she’d never thought possible, her body arching into it, driving him deeper as he smirks. He knows what he’s doing to her, knows it, and loves it, possibly even _lives_ for it. 

Not as much as she loves riding his finger, though. Grinding against his hand, feeling his thumb as it presses against her clit, it’s the best she’s felt in a long time. It makes her wonder what other parts of him might be like, what his cock will feel like inside of her, fucking her the way his finger currently is, making her feel alive with every stroke against her skin. 

Then he presses a second finger against her entrance, pressing inside of her, and she breaks the kiss to shout his name, back arching as his free hand splays out against it, supporting her as he makes sure she doesn’t fall. “God,” he whispers, his lips finding her neck, pressing gently against her pulse point as his fingers pick up their pace. “You feel _incredible,_ Rey.” 

And she can’t even say anything. He’s rendered her speechless, he told her not to talk and now there are no thoughts in her head, it is completely empty, and she has no clue when it’ll have anything of substance in there again. 

“Is this how it feels when you’re alone at night?” he continues, his lips scraping her neck gently with every word, driving her impossibly close to the edge. “Is this how wet you get? How loud?”

Without her permission, she cries out again, feeling as if her body has become putty in his hands, clay he can shape and mold however he wants, but she needs this. It’s not that she needs sex, she can go ages without it, but this right here with him is so nice she just wants to melt in it. She needs to feel this good more often, and if being finger fucked by Ben Solo in the back of his car is what makes that happen, then she doesn’t mind it one bit. 

“Answer me, Rey.” His voice falls soft, a groan escaping him against her neck. “Tell me how I make you feel.” 

Words don’t make sense in her brain, but she conjures to mind a vision of Ben as the man she met in a bar. The man she knew she could take home and have her way with, but for some reason, she’s waited months, because there’s a different way he makes her feel. 

The emotions he brings out in her are things she hasn’t known she was capable of. She’s always thought love is useless, stupid, senseless, and worth no time or thought in her head. Now she thinks it might be something sort of magical, something worth trying if one finds the right person, the person who can make her feel as if everything in the world is possible. 

The person who makes her believe that sometimes, other people are worth taking risks for. 

“ _Alive,_ ” she tells him, whole body trembling as she begins to ride that edge, the wave just on the cusp of cresting. “Ben, I’m gonna come.” Sweet _fuck,_ she’s going to come harder than she ever has in her entire life. 

_On Ben’s fucking hand._

“Then come, Rey.” He laughs, low and deep in her ear like he’s sharing some kind of private joke with himself. “Come for me.”

She does. Not a second after those words leave his mouth, she shatters, her cunt fluttering around his fingers as he continues fucking her through the best orgasm she’s had in months. It’s as if all the circuits have switched on, a lightbulb lighting up over her head, and she realizes she never wants to stop feeling like this, she always wants to ride this high, to chase it until she reaches the sunset and beyond.

All the while, he’s pressing tender kisses along her neck, sucking tiny little bruises where her heartbeat pulses against her skin. His fingers tremble as they caress the back of her neck, his other hand slowing its ministrations but not stopping. It continues its work until she’s twitching against him, whimpering his name as she comes down. 

For a moment, she thinks it’ll never end, but then he pulls his hand away, then he pulls back from her neck, and he just stares at her. His eyes are hooded, his gaze dark, and she has no idea what he’s thinking, but she can see his smirk fighting for control as his Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow. Before she can ask him what’s on his mind, though, he brings his fingers to his mouth, inhaling deeply before he takes his fingers between his lips, and drinks in the taste of her. 

The look on his face nearly makes her come again. His eyes are shut, but there’s this softness to his features, this flush to his cheeks, and when his eyelids flutter open, he looks at her like he’s just been given the entire world. 

“Rey,” he whispers, but he doesn’t get another word out before she’s kissing him again. All he can do is moan against her, his hands once again caressing her waist, her hips, her back, holding her close as she tastes herself on his lips. 

She wants to do this forever, just kiss him in the back of his car and forget all of her worries, but apparently whatever Ben wants to say to her is rather pressing. Seconds after they’ve started kissing, he pulls away, chuckling slightly at the whimper she gives him in response. “Why did you stop?” She kisses him again. “I didn’t ask for you to stop.”

“We need to get back to the wedding, I believe you promised Rose Tico a toast,” he replies, reaching up to stroke her hair. “As much as I’d like to do this all night, I think we need to put it on pause.”

Scoffing, Rey shakes her head. “But what about you? I think it’s hardly fair that I get to have all the fun while you’re--”

“Bold of you to assume that making you come isn’t the most fun I’ve had in ages.” His lower lip finds its way between his teeth, dragging slowly back out as he looks her up and down. “But we can worry about me later, right now, we’ve got to avoid a bridezilla situation.”

A loud snort leaves her as she leans back in his arms. “You’re right, but I know Rose still wouldn’t be mad if we sat in here and I got to return the favor.”

“You can do whatever you want to me later, I promise,” he says, laughing breathlessly as images of that future encounter dance in front of his eyes. “So let me make you a deal, if we survive the rest of the wedding, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

It’s a damn good deal. As much as she likes this moment they’ve just had in the back of his car, she likes the idea of taking him back somewhere with a little more space and having her way with him there. Sighing, she rolls off of him, both of them panting slightly as the air settles around them, the temperature seeming to be about ten degrees colder than it had been. 

A second later, she nods. “Yeah, that sounds good to me.” Then she smiles, thinking back on all of the things he’d just said and done to her. “You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you, Solo?”

“Well, nothing like this has ever happened between us, so--”

“No, I just mean, we could’ve hooked up at anytime before this. You’ve deprived me of the best orgasm I’ve had in my life for a while now,” she tells him. “That’s very rude of you.”

“Well, forgive me, but I suppose this just gives me an excuse to come and visit you more often, doesn’t it?” 

They already see each other almost every day now, but she won’t complain. If he comes over and their movie nights shift to include sex with the snacks, she is more than happy to answer his question with a resounding yes.

But if he thinks that’s all they’ll be after this, that they won’t be talking about it later and what it means emotionally, that means there’s a risk to telling him how she feels later. She could tell him and it could turn out that this is all physical if his expectations for a relationship are just sex and friendship. They could do that friends with benefits thing, but as good as being with him feels, she knows that won’t last long. She wants more-- _needs_ more. 

He’s shown her an entirely new world, and she just wants to spend her days exploring it. And she wants to do it whilst not losing the courage she’s built up to tell him she loves him. 

_Fuck,_ this love thing is difficult. No wonder she gave up on it for the longest time, but as she looks at Ben now, she thinks maybe, for him, it might be worth it. It might even be worth getting her heart broken for. 

“I guess you’re right,” she tells him, bottling up the confusion she feels as she looks out the window for the first time, trying to gauge whether or not the party is still going, when she notices it for the first time. “I think we fogged the windows.”

Taking his eyes off of her seems a difficult task given how long he stalls in doing it, but soon his gaze falls on the sheer layer of mist blurring their view of the outdoors. For a couple of seconds, he simply blinks, but once it hits him, he starts laughing joyously, the sound filling her ears as he clutches his chest. “Oh, we should watch _Titanic_ for our next movie night.”

Eyes rolling in her head, she reaches for the door, pushing it open before she steps out into the cool night air. It’s now that she realizes just how stuffy it had gotten in that car, how hard it was getting to breathe, because the first breath she takes is the best she’s ever had in her life. It’s cold, clean, and likely kind of polluted this close to the main part of the city, but she doesn’t give a shit. 

This is the best she’s ever felt. 

Smoothing out her skirts, she holds out a hand for his. “Come on, we’ve got to get back, and you need to buy me a new pair of underwear.” 

“I didn’t break them, though.”

“No, but you did throw them into the abyss where I’ll never find them again.” 

A tiny giggle leaves him as he takes her hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet. Both of them drunkenly sway a little, the alcohol she’s drank swimming in her brain anew now that she’s standing, but the picture of him in her eyes has never been more clear. “Rey, I’ll buy you as many pairs of underwear as you want, just promise to let me actually destroy one first.”

The thought of him destroying her underwear in the process of fucking her nearly makes her weak at the knees again, but instead of collapsing like she so desperately wants to, she just nods. “That sounds promising.”

“Great, so what are you thinking of saying for Rose’s toast?” he asks, holding out an arm for her, one she gladly takes as she processes his question. 

“I’m honestly not sure. I think I’ll just wing it, it’s what she’d want, don’t you think?” Then she looks at him, needing that reassurance that only he and Rose ever seem capable of giving her. That’s another thing she loves about him, the absolute confidence that she’ll always have someone to believe in her and everything she does. 

“I think you’ll do great no matter what,” he replies, resting a hand over hers as they walk back into Rose’s house, and Rey’s blank mind begins to fill with words.


End file.
